


Adventures in Babysitting

by nochick_fics



Series: Adventures [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Babysitting, First Crush, First Love, Friendship, M/M, Sexual Content, Teenage Drama, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, future relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-29 11:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 102,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10853373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: Sixteen-year-old Roy Mustang has his work cut out for him when he takes a job babysitting the well-known and much-feared local hellions, otherwise known as the Elric brothers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I started this back in 2008, I wasn't expecting it to become this huge thing. But the muse overruled me, and here we are. Some of you have told me that this is your favorite fic by me. I think it's my favorite fic, too. <3 
> 
> Those of you who have read this on LJ will notice that the grown-up parts are a little tamer here.

Sixteen-year-old Roy Mustang was a quiet teen with a penchant for starting fires. All of the parents around town were convinced that it was just a matter of time before the brooding boy set the whole city ablaze. Because of this, the last thing anyone ever suspected was that he, out of all the neighborhood teens, would become a babysitter. But given the reputation of the kids in question, everyone immediately understood why Roy was the one who landed the job.

It was because no one else in their _right mind_ would do it. 

*****

“You’re crazy, dude,” Roy’s friend Jean pointed out as he pulled onto the road that led to the Elric house, a large, cozy-looking home that was nestled just on the outskirts of town. “I know you need money for a car and all, but are you sure this is how you want to make it?  I hear those kids are fucking impossible."

“Come on, man.  You of all people should know better than to listen to rumors.  If I believed the ones going around about you, I sure as _hell_ wouldn't let you drive me out to the middle of nowhere, ya big homo."

"Fuck _you_ , Mustang, you pole smoker," Jean shot back.  

"You wish," Roy quipped in jest, knowing full well Jean Havoc was strictly about the ladies... at least the ones who would have him.  Although for Roy, that wasn't necessarily the case.

_"Anyway,"_ he went on, staring out of the passenger window at his destination.  "I’d rather babysit a couple of kids than work at some greasy shithole.” He turned back to Jean, eyeing the ember of the teen's cigarette with a look that was akin to nostalgia. “They’re two little kids," he concluded.  "How hard can it really be?”

“Guess you’ll find out,” Jean said, stopping the car for Roy to get out. “Good luck.”

“Yeah, yeah. See ya tonight.” Roy closed the door and watched him pull away before heading up the long path to the front door.

_Nice house,_ he thought, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Roy himself had never lived anywhere quite so nice, having been shuffled from foster home to foster home with no real parents to speak of. He was currently living with his best friend Maes and his parents, although he wasn’t quite sure how much longer that would last, especially since Maes had tried to--

“Hi, Roy!” 

Mrs. Elric threw open the door with a warm smile before he even had a chance to knock. 

“I saw you coming up the path. Come on in,” she said, gently taking his wrist and pulling him inside. Roy had to step quickly to keep from falling over.

“The boys will be out in a minute. Thanks again for doing this. I'm sure you may have heard some things about them...” she said with a sheepish grin and a shrug.   

She had a nice smile.  Come to think of it, Roy was hard pressed to remember a time when Mrs. Elric _wasn’t_ smiling. He normally didn’t care much for adults, but this lady… she was a bit of alright. It was all the more reason Roy had such a hard time buying into the general consensus about her children; there was no way a woman this nice could have possibly given birth to the sons of the devil, if most of the city was to be believed. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have time to give you the grand tour,” she said, glancing at her watch. “But help yourself to look around.” She looked down at the teen’s empty arms and frowned slightly. “You didn’t bring anything to do? Well, I’m afraid the boys don’t have much in the way of entertainment, unless you like coloring books.”

“TV’s good enough for me,” Roy said.  

Again with the smile. “Good. Let’s see,” she said, looking around. “Help yourself to anything, and I mean _anything_ , out of the kitchen. And I don’t care what you make for the boys as long as there’s a vegetable somewhere in there. That goes for you, too,” she said with a wink.

Roy couldn’t help but smile at the woman’s charm. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

“Oh. Edward… he doesn’t care for milk.  His calcium supplements are in the kitchen, on the top shelf of the cabinet by the sink. Make sure he gets two after dinner.” She grabbed her purse and coat as she continued. “And he can get a little… _rambunctious_ sometimes. If anything happens with his automail--"

_Automail???_

“--then you need to call the Rockbells. They live about a quarter of a mile away. Their number’s on the fridge, along with my work number."

Roy observed that the woman even sighed with a smile.  

“I’m sure I’m forgetting a million things, but I can’t afford to be late on the first day. Please, Roy, call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” Roy promised, although he didn’t think that he would need to.

Mrs. Elric stared at him for a moment. Even though she still had a kind visage, Roy could feel the question she _really_ wanted to ask most lurking behind her eyes.

_You’re not going to burn down my house, are you?_

“I’ll call the boys then,” she said instead, turning her head toward the stairs. “Edward! Alphonse! Come down here, please!”

Roy could hear the dutiful sound of running feet across the ceiling before descending down the stairs, mixed with a chorus of yelps and laughter. He turned his head and had his first look at the brothers Elric.

“Boys, this is Roy Mustang and he'll be your new sitter.  Roy, this is Alphonse,” Mrs. Elric said, kindly patting the head of the little kid who had instantly flown to her side, wrapping his arms around her waist. He smiled shyly at Roy, who immediately saw the strong resemblance between the two.

“Al,” he muttered, bashfully burying his face into his mother’s hip.

_This kid's a hellion?_ Roy could not see how such an adorably shy boy could have such a horrible reputation.

Mrs. Elric rolled her eyes and corrected herself. “I’m sorry. This is _Al_. Only I'm allowed to call him Alphonse.”

“Hey there, Al,” Roy said in that ersatz and condescending way that most of the adults he’d ever known spoke to him. He felt like a jackass for doing it, but hell, if the grown-ups did it, then why shouldn’t he? 

“How old are you, Al?” he asked, not that he particularly cared, but because it was always one of the first things he knew adults asked of little kids.

“Seven,” the young boy spoke into his mother’s side.

Roy felt a stare burning the side of his face and looked at into the eyes of Al’s brother. _Little_ brother, from the size of him. He stood off to the side of his mother and Al with his arms crossed, looking up at Roy with a defiant amber glare. Roy noticed that one of those arms--the right one--was made out of some sort of metal. 

_So that must be automail,_ he thought, breaking his gaze away. He wanted to check it out because it looked kind of badass, but he knew enough to refrain from doing so, at least until no one was looking. 

“And this is Edward,” Ms. Elric said, running a hand through the boy’s short, blond hair. “Alphonse’s older brother.”

“Ed,” Al interjected.

“Oh,” Roy said in subdued surprise, causing the boy to narrow his eyes at him in suspicion.

_Older brother?_ _Really??_

“Hello, Ed,” he said, employing the same fake charm he used on Al. “And how old are you?”

“None of your _gee dee_ beeswax,” the little blond said stubbornly, closing his eyes and turning his head away.

A stunned snort fell from Roy’s mouth, as he was torn between shock and laughter. 

_“Edward Elric!”_ the boy’s mother yelled in horror. “We do _not_ use that kind of language in this house!”

The feisty child looked into his mother’s face and flashed a mischievous grin.  “You mean beeswax?” 

_Kid’s got balls,_ Roy thought. 

“Go to your room,” Mrs. Elric ordered in a low, authoritative tone not to be denied. “You may stay there until dinner.”

Ed stomped away, looking at Roy as if this were somehow all his doing. 

The stomping continued up the stairs and across the ceiling, followed closely by the slamming of a door.

“He doesn’t know what the ‘gee dee’ actually stands for," she said, running her hands over Al's ears.  "But just knowing _that_ much at his age is bad enough.” The boys’ mother shook her head in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry about that, Roy. Edward can be a bit of a handful.” She glanced down at her remaining son and gave him a brief squeeze. “But Alphonse will help you to keep him in line, won’t you dear?”

Al nodded and smiled. Roy smiled back. He didn’t know much about kids and didn’t necessarily _like_ them, truth be told. But this one… he was okay. 

Mrs. Elric slid out of Al’s tight grasp. “I’ve really got to go,” she said apologetically. “Call me if you need anything at all,” she reiterated to Roy, perhaps now having second thoughts about leaving him to Ed’s wrath. 

“Everything'll be alright,” Roy said with reassurance. “We’re going to have fun, aren’t we, Al?”

Al took a step closer to Roy and nodded eagerly.

A look of relief bloomed on the woman’s face. “I’ll see you boys tonight,” she said, kissing Al on top of the head. “Goodbye, Edward!” she called out to the living room ceiling. She patted Roy on the shoulder. “Bye!” she said happily, walking out of the door and closing it behind her. 

The teen stood there for a moment, wondering if a greasy shithole really _would_ be any worse after all. 

He turned his head and stared down into the inquisitive face of Alphonse Elric. 

“So Al... can _you_ cook?”

*****

“Boiling water… I think I can do that without fu--" Roy glanced at his one-boy audience and corrected himself. “ _Fudging_ it up.” 

“I like fudge,” Al informed him.

_Goddammit all. Stop being so cute._  

“Me too, Al” Roy said, resisting the urge to pat the kid’s head. “Now take a step back for me, okay?”

Al obediently took a few steps backward as Roy picked up the large box of matches from the counter to light the gas stove. His eyes widened slightly as he watched a flame burst into life from the match in his hand.

Roy loved fire. He didn’t understand his obsession and he couldn’t begin to explain it, even to _himself_ , let alone anyone else. But there was something about it that just felt… _right_. Natural. Like an extension of his being. And while it was true he did greatly enjoy starting the occasional fire in a remote area just to watch it burn, he thought the rumors of his pyromania were greatly exaggerated.

He ignited the stove and shook out the match, wetting it under the sink before tossing it in the trash. “Well, that’s done,” he said, turning to Al, who nodded in agreement.

That time, Roy did risk a quick ruffling of the kid’s brown hair. Poor little guy.  It wasn't fair that he ended up branded as a troublemaker because of his snot-nosed brat of a brother.

They continued preparing dinner.  Roy was able to put aside his thoughts of the terror that lurked overhead and enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasted.

Because it most certainly wouldn't.

*****

Ed had come down to dinner without argument or complaint. By the way the kid ate, Roy would have guessed that it had been days, as opposed to hours, since he’d last eaten anything.

After putting away his third helping, the sullen child crossed his arms and glowered at Roy.

“That tasted like… like...” the devious boy paused, looking for the perfect insult.  "Like _crap_ ," he finished, sticking out his tongue. 

Roy was not fazed. He actually found it quite humorous, and a tad bit cute, that Ed thought the word ‘crap’ was so scathingly insulting.

“Well, Ed,” he said, stacking up the dishes to be taken into the kitchen. “You must _really_ like the taste of crap because you had three whole helpings of it yourself.”

Al giggled into his hand. “Brother likes _crap_ ,” he said joyously, whispering the last word as if it were such a dreadful, awful swear. 

“I do _not!_ ” Ed exclaimed, kicking at the bottom of the table with his left foot and causing everything atop it to jump and rattle.

“Don’t do that,” Roy said, vaguely wondering how such a tiny leg could make such a thunderous sound. He handed him two tiny white pills on a napkin and found himself secretly wishing that 'calcium supplement' was a code name for Ritalin. “Here you go.”

Ed shook his head. “Don’t want ‘em. Gross milk pills.”

"Edward," Roy sighed patiently.  "You take these every single day.”

“So? Now _you_ can take ‘em, old man!”

_Old man?_

Roy set the napkin down in front of the child, willing himself to remain calm and wondering if he was old enough to get a vasectomy.

“Ed,” he tried again. “It’s very important that you have these.”

“Yeah,” Al piped in. “And remember, Mom said you _have_ to take them.” 

Ed stood up and glared at the both of them. “I’m _not_ taking ‘em!  Here!” he cried out, reaching up on the table and grabbing one in each hand. “One for _you_ and one for _you!_ ” he shouted, launching a small white projectile at both Roy and Al before walking away.

For Roy, it was the last straw. He stood up and walked after Ed, taking him by the arm and speaking to him as firmly as possible without yelling.  Or choking.

“You are going to come back to this table and take your pi- _!!!!!_ ”

Light.

Blinding white light.

Roy fell forward on his knees and slumped over onto his left side, where he promptly curled into a fetal position. 

Somewhere… in the distance… Ed was laughing demonically as he ran up the stairs.

Somewhere… in the distance… Al was running after him, yelling at him to come back. 

Roy barely registered any of it. 

Because of the pain.

Dear God. 

_The fucking pain._

There was a reason that the table had trembled so mightily as a result of the little bastard’s kick.

That leg… that left leg... it was automail too.

And it had just met the acquaintance of Roy’s groin with a vengeance.

It seemed he might not need that vasectomy after all.

The teen pressed his cheek against the cool hardwood floor, praying for someone, _anyone,_ to kill him.

*****

The good news was that in spite of the sheer, seething agony of being kicked in the nuts by a temperamental eight-year-old with a metal leg, Roy was fairly positive that everything was still in working order.

But the bad news? Mrs. Elric wouldn’t be home for _four more hours._  

Indeed, the fun had only just begun. 


	2. Chapter 2

Roy sat on the couch, glowering at the evening news and reminding himself that it was wrong to wish harm on little children.

Even ones who kicked him in the balls.

Al sat beside him, obediently coloring a picture of a cartoon character while the demon spawn had yet to emerge from his bedroom since the kick felt ‘round the world. But the little bastard made it a point to occasionally stomp on the floor overhead as if to remind the teen that yes, he was still alive and… well… _kicking_. 

He picked up the remote and blindly flipped through the five remaining stations.  After trying all six, he repeated the process, praying he might have missed a station the first time around.  When he’d told Mrs. Elric that the TV would suit him just fine, he didn’t realize that they didn’t have cable; Roy thought he would quite possibly go out of his mind between the evilness lurking upstairs and the lack of his usual mind-numbing television programs to soothe him.

A text message from Jean had arrived at some point during the last half hour of hell. Apparently Maes’ parents had decided to take an impromptu trip out of town and their son decided the best way to celebrate the occasion was to invite over every teen within a twenty mile radius. Obviously.  Roy would have happily bailed on the festivities if not for the fact that he lived there. But while it couldn’t be helped, the good news was that, for a few hours anyway, he and Maes would not be alone together. No doubt Jean would stick around as long as it took, plugging away at anything with a pulse and a vagina until he pulled, so he had that going for him as well.

He instinctively flinched as Al set a coloring book onto his lap. Seemed the boys were still looking out for themselves.

“Now you do one too, Roy, okay?” Al said happily, setting the box of crayons between them. 

“Okay,” Roy said, opening the book and selecting a warm yellow-orange crayon from the box, vaguely calling to mind the color of the brat’s eyes. He looked down into Al’s beaming face and wondered, not for the first time, what it would have been like to have a brother of his own. If every child on earth was like Al, that would not have been such a bad thing at all. 

But the teen couldn’t help but think that most children were actually more similar to--

A door slammed overhead. Both Roy and Al looked up at the ceiling and then at each other as they heard the footsteps of impending doom. 

“Come on, Al,” Roy said reassuringly to the young boy, urging him to continue his coloring while he started on his own page, which was comprised of a dimwitted and asexual sponge with buck teeth. Just as it occurred to him to wonder how on earth something so asinine became such a phenomenon, a taunting voice yelled out at them from the stairway:

“Coloring’s for BABIES!” 

Roy resisted the urge to look up but Al was rightfully offended. “But you color all the time!”

A low chuckle escaped the teen, who had understood that the dig was directed at him and him alone. But Ed forgot to let Al in on that particular secret. 

“Oh, shut up, Al!” Ed retorted, bounding down the remaining steps, irritated that the wrong party had been insulted. He stormed past them, giving Roy a smug, bratty look before walking into the kitchen. 

Only then did Roy spare the boy a glance, as he had a direct line of sight into the kitchen and supposed he should give a shit that the kid was wandering around in a place where so much weaponry could be acquired. He saw the back of that determined little blond head staring up at the top of the refrigerator, where a cookie jar was perched. As Ed turned back around, Roy quickly resumed his coloring, waiting for the inevitable...

“I want a cookie.”

Roy looked up and blinked. “Oh, I didn’t see you there, Ed. What’d you say?”

“He wants a cookie,” Al said, bent over his book but not too engrossed to ignore the conversation.

The teen smirked. “Thanks, Al.” Turning back to Ed, Roy spoke again. “Why should you get a cookie?”

Ed crossed his arms stubbornly and glared at him. “Because I want one.”

While Roy still couldn’t get over the intensity of that stare, neither was he going to back down. Not from some little jerk who assaulted gonads without a care in the world. “Well, I want a new car,” he said. “That doesn’t mean I can just have one because I want one; I have to earn money for it. Same thing with cookies, Ed. You have to earn a cookie. Al’s earned a cookie--"

“Yay!” The child really was too cute for words.

“--because he’s been extremely good tonight. You? You kicked me--"

_In the nuts, you little shit._

“--and boys who kick don’t get cookies. Period.” Roy smiled happily; he knew he was taking entirely too much delight in denying a child a cookie, but hey, what else did he have as retribution for his poor, defenseless testes?

He felt pretty good about his speech. It was grown up. It was fair. And maybe, just maybe, some sort of sense of responsibility about the consequences of Ed's actions would sink in…

… or maybe he would grab a chair and attempt to get the jar himself.

“Ed!” Roy yelled, quickly jumping to his feet in spite of the dull throb of pain that it caused. “What are you-!!” was all he managed to get out before it all came tumbling down: the jar, the chair… and Ed.

“Brother!” Al’s shrill cry of panic rang out as he hopped off the couch.

“Al, stay right there!” Roy sprinted into the kitchen and felt an immediate jab of fear touch his heart. 

There were shards of glass and broken cookies everywhere. The chair lay on its side, as did Ed, who was moaning and writhing frantically in the chaos, trying to stand up but only managing to coat himself in the dangerous mess even more.

“Don’t move!” Roy commanded. To his surprise, Ed obeyed. Wasting no time to celebrate, he walked into the debris without a second thought and swept the boy into his arms, moving him over to the kitchen table and setting him down. 

_Why didn’t I just let him have a fucking cookie?_

A wave of guilt tore through him as his eyes scanned over the boy’s body for any sign of blood or injury. They finally came to a stop on Ed’s face, and his amber gaze, watching Roy carefully. 

“Are you okay?” Roy asked softly, sweeping blond hair back from the child’s forehead, where he discovered a small cut and a thin line of blood that stopped at his eyebrow. It was a little thing, really, but he still felt like shit all over again. 

“Yeah.” There was no sign of malice at all in the boy’s small voice as he let out a shuddering sigh, just a scared little kid who did an amazingly jackass thing out of spite. 

Roy turned to the kitchen doorway where Al was still standing, looking so incredibly worried and really, could Roy possibly feel any _more_ like shit tonight? “Al, do you have a first aid kit here?” 

“Uh-huh. In the bathroom.”

“Would you go grab it for me, please?”

Al nodded and sprinted away. 

Roy grabbed a paper towel and wet one end with his tongue. He began wiping away the blood around the cut, all the while trying to make sense out of the inquisitive eyes that followed his every move.

“You’re somethin’ else, kid. You know that?” Roy said wearily. “You give me a hard time over stupid shit, you kick me in the junk, and you almost kill yourself for a fucking cookie just to prove you can.” The teen shook his head as he wiped away at Ed’s forehead, somewhat aware of the fact that he probably shouldn’t be swearing like that, but too worn out to care.   

Al returned to the doorway and held up the first aid kit. Roy walked over to him and took it. 

“Is Brother okay?” the child asked.

Roy gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Yes, he’s okay, Al. Why don’t you go back into the living room and do a picture for him, okay? We’ll be done in just a minute.”

“Promise?”

“I’m fine, Al," Ed called out. “Just do what he says.”

Satisfied by the word of his older brother, Al nodded and trotted back into the living room. Roy turned around, stunned by the vote of confidence. He opened the kit on the table and pulled out a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide. 

“This might sting just a bit,” he warned as he began dabbing at the wound. Ed showed no sign of discomfort, but simply continued staring at Roy in an unflinching way that the teen found somewhat unnerving.

“You really should try to be more careful,” Roy continued. Not because he really cared to lecture the boy, but because he needed to say something to break the silence. “You could have really messed yourself up just now. You’ve already got one automail arm, are you fishing for another one?”

Roy met his stare. Ed seemed to understand that the question was rhetorical and said nothing. 

“How did that happen, anyway? Oh wait--it’s none of my ‘gee dee beeswax,’ right?” Roy used a swab to spread some antibiotic ointment on the cut before carefully peeling open a Band-Aid. “Well, I don’t care how cool it looks. That doesn’t mean you should go around doing stupid shit that will make you lose the one real arm you have left.” 

He pressed the adhesive firmly against Ed’s forehead and smoothed his bangs back down, although that strange little cowlick at the top of his head steadfastly refused to comply. 

“It’s not cool,” Ed grumbled, crossing his arms with a stubborn frown. 

“Says you.  I think it’s cool and you can’t stop me from thinking it no matter how much you want to kick me, so there. Now come on.” Roy patiently held out his arms and tried not to smile at the look of confused calculation on the boy’s face. 

“I can walk by myself,” he said.

“And you will, after I carry you out of the kitchen. Don’t think for a second I planned on carrying you any farther than that. And if you even think about jumping down into all of this glass, I will choke you out without hesitation.”

Ed stuck out his tongue. “No you won’t cuz I’ll tell my mom and you’ll get in trouble.”

Roy dropped his hands and looked into Ed’s defiant face. “Kid, I want you to think long and hard about all of the stunts you pulled tonight and tell me who’ll be the one getting in trouble.”

He could practically see the battle of wills going on inside of the eight-year-old, wanting to lash out, wanting to scream, wanting to perhaps kick again, but not wanting to face any more of his mother’s wrath than what he surely realized he was already going to face. Roy still felt guilty about the fall, but that didn’t excuse the boy from his behavior beforehand.

Finally, Ed relented and held out his arms.

“Your face is gonna freeze like that,” Roy said, smiling at the child’s fiercely determined frown. He picked Ed up in his arms, noting the strange, yet pretty damn neat contrast of cool automail against his left forearm and warm, human flesh against his right. 

He carried Ed over to the door and set him down just inside of the living room. “Can you do me a favor and at least stay out of trouble long enough for me to clean up in here?”

“Come ‘ere, Ed!” Al said, happy to see his brother alive and well.

Ed turned around and joined Al on the couch, leaving the teen to return to the kitchen to deal with the wreckage. 

*****

After Roy had finally finished and felt the floor was reasonably safe for bare feet once more, going so far as to test it out using his own, he washed his hands and debated on what to make the boys for a snack. Crackers and juice seemed alright, if terribly generic. But Roy was hardly in the mood to put any more thought into it. Al would eat it without complaint. And Ed… well, right now Roy just didn’t give a damn if Ed wanted it or not. 

He prepared the items on a tray and brought it out to the living room, where Ed was indeed coloring like nobody’s business. For the sake of peace, Roy decided to forego any smartassery and headed back into the kitchen to find something a bit more appetizing for himself. He had initially felt somewhat reluctant to partake too much of the Elric kitchen, no matter how much Ed and Al’s mother had encouraged him too. But now, Roy planned on making himself the largest, most decadent sandwich known to man.

After all of the day’s bullshit, it was the least he deserved.

While he dug through the fridge, he felt another presence in the room. Closing the door, with an armful of deli meat in one hand and a jar of mayo in the other, he saw Ed standing in the doorway.

“What is it, Ed?” Roy asked, at this point, ready to give him all the cookies in the world if it would just keep things simple until Mrs. Elric got home.

“Pills,” the boy uttered softly.

“What?” 

“Need m’pills.” Ed blushed and looked away.

Roy stared thoughtfully at him for a moment before quietly retrieving the bottle and shaking two new, non-projectile pills into the tiny palm of Ed’s hand.   “Thank you, Ed,” he said.

“I have to take ‘em,” he reminded Roy, as if the teen had somehow gotten it into his head that he was doing this out of the kindness of his little stubborn heart.

“Of course,” Roy said, holding back the smile until Ed was in the other room. 

… It was a start. 

*****

“This almost doesn’t seem worth it, does it Roy?” Mrs. Elric asked, handing him two twenties with a worried frown. He had just regaled her with the cookie jar incident, figuring it was best to get that out of the way. 

He had also decided at the last minute to overlook mentioning the kicking incident, for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom. “It’s fine, Mrs. Elric,” he said. “I’m just sorry that it happened on my watch.”

The kind woman waved a forgiving hand. “Please. It could have just as easily happened if I was here, so don’t worry yourself over it.” She threw her purse onto the couch and sat down, kicking off her shoes. “Look,” she started. “If you don’t want to come back, I understand.”

Roy had been considering this for the past hour. While the rest of the evening had passed with little incident, and both boys had even bathed and gotten ready for bed without having to be told to do so, Roy wasn’t crazy enough for one minute to believe that somehow Ed had reformed and would be an angel from here on out. Nor could the teen count on a near miss like the fall from the chair to keep him in line on a daily basis. 

Would he come back?

“Well, I--”

“Mom?” 

They both turned to the stairway and saw Al standing there, rubbing his sleepy eyes. 

“Hi sweetie!” his mother happily exclaimed. “You should be asleep.”

Al toddled down to greet her with a large hug and a kiss. “I wanted to see you,” he said.  He glanced at Roy and smiled. “Are you coming tomorrow, Roy?”

“Sure am, Al,” Roy decided. 

God help him.

Mrs. Elric grinned and nuzzled her face against her youngest son’s. “Did you have fun with Roy today?”

“Mm-hm. We cooked and we colored… but Brother wasn’t very nice.”

“Well...” Roy started, trying to cut the kid some slack.

“What do you mean, honey?”

“Really, it wasn’t a big deal,” Roy spoke up.

“He kicked Roy in the woo-woo.”

Mrs. Elric gasped in horror and looked to Roy for confirmation.

“It was nothing. An accident.” Roy blushed slightly, embarrassed at having the conversation turn toward his… woo-woo.

“That son of mine, I swear,” Mrs. Elric said softly. “I’m sorry, Roy. I’ll talk to him.”

“It’s fine, really,” Roy insisted. “Um, my ride is waiting so I’m going to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Bye Roy!” Al waved cheerfully from his mother’s arms. 

“'Night Al. Goodnight, Mrs. Elric,” he said, walking to the door. 

The woman looked at him as if she were trying to figure out a complex mystery. But in the end, she could only smile her infinitely kind smile. “Goodnight Roy. We’ll see you tomorrow. Would you lock the door behind you?”

“Sure,” Roy said, watching as the two of them disappeared into the kitchen.

As he was about to walk out the door, he once again felt the weight of a stare boring into his back. He glanced up at the stairs and saw Ed watching him and looking… rather cute… in his pajamas that were adorned with frogs. 

“See you tomorrow, Ed.” 

Smiling gleefully, Ed held out his left hand and extended his middle finger before taking off up the stairs, his maniacal laughter trailing behind him.

Yep. That seemed just about right.

Roy shook his head and walked out of the house, locking and closing the door behind him.

*****

He headed up the path toward Jean’s car, wondering what “new and exciting” babysitting adventures awaited him the next day. 

But first, he had a party to attend. Roy could only hope that Maes would have the decency to refrain from attempting to grope him with company in the house. If not, he might just have to employ some good ol’ fashioned Edward Elric foot-to-the-groin maneuvering as well. 

That damn kid…. With any luck, Roy would only have to put up with him for a month. Two, at the most. Just long enough for a down payment on a decent car and some insurance. Then he would happily go to work somewhere else. Anywhere else, where random fucking children didn’t kick him or flip him off.

Two months, tops. Then he would never have to see that damn brat Edward Elric again. 

At that time, Roy really believed that to be the one and only truth. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, Roy! How’re your nuts?! ”

“I don’t know, Breda. Why don’t you take ‘em out of your mouth and tell me?”

A chorus of adolescent “ooooohs” rang out in the living room of the Hughes’ home as Heymans Breda, resident jock and inexplicable chick magnet, walked into the kitchen in search of food. Roy sat on the couch next to a couple who were trying their damnedest to drown each other in saliva, bored and irritated. He propped a sneakered foot over the arm of the couch and cast a deadly, sidelong glare at Jean, who sat across from him with a cigarette nestled between his lips. 

The teen held up his hands in a surrendering gesture under Roy’s gaze. “Dude… okay… I told, like, _two_ people .”

Roy casually offered his middle finger in response. As he did, a brief memory--

_Ed_

\--passed through his mind, immediately replaced by the growing suspicion that people might be fucking on his bed. God knows they were practically fucking everywhere else. Leave it to Maes to let what should have been a simple gathering of friends turn into the underage orgy-fest of the century.

While the sound of ridiculously earth-trembling bass thumped in the background, Roy looked around the room at the eclectic gathering of classmates. He could count on one hand the number of them that he considered to be a true friend, those with whom he could be open about everything. Even Jean was one among them; despite his inability to keep his trap shut about Roy’s testicular mishap, he had never uttered word one to anyone else about his predilection for men. 

He spotted Riza and Sheska bumping and grinding in a corner of the room, much to the delight of a gaggle of male onlookers. While they weren’t the least bit lesbian, they never minded putting on a show when they were hopped up on cheap beer. Riza was a wildcat even when she was sober; this was nothing new for her. She and Roy had always been particularly close, just not like _that,_ even though most people mistakenly thought that they were. Sheska, normally the more subdued of the two, had already shed her bra and had tied it around her head so that the cups rested on top of her head like two large, padded ears. Roy suspected that at some point before the night was over, she would be puking her guts out and swearing to Christ she would never drink again… just like she did the last time she got drunk.

His eyes moved along the crowd and spotted Maes amid a throng of kids, huffing on one of his dad’s cigars. Despite the recent… _issues_ … between them, Roy adored Maes. There wasn’t a truer friend in the world, though Jean did come in a close second. Plus he was just so _cool._  He was like the James Dean of their school-- _everyone_ loved him. He was cool enough to hang out with the preppy people, athletic enough to rival the jocks, smart enough to translate geek speak, and bad enough to be respected among the troublemakers. It was no wonder the house was standing-room-only; everyone wanted a piece of him… except for Roy. At least, not _that_ kind of piece. 

Roy decided to move away from the couch before actual penetration took place right beside him. He stood up and ran his hands through his hair, trying to figure out where he could go to be alone.

He glanced over at Jean again and grinned to himself. The poor boy was trying earnestly to talk to a disinterested girl; it was the story of his life.

The teen began making his way through the crowd. He thought briefly about going into his room, but since he really wasn’t in the mood to walk in on any copulating at the moment,  he decided instead to bulldoze his way out of the back door and into the backyard. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t nearly as populated as he thought it might be.

Maes’ parents owned a large piece of property, on which the actual house comprised very little space. Roy walked along the edge of the wooded grounds as the sound of bad rap music wafted out into the night air. When he saw the familiar clearing ahead of him, and the black patch of ground that was visible even in the darkness, he immediately felt at ease.

The unspoken rule in the house was that this was “Roy’s place,” an area where he could come and burn as he pleased without question. Off to the side, a pile of wood, chopped by his own hands, was bundled in a neat tier along with a container of gasoline and a fire extinguisher. A plastic patio chair completed the set-up, upon which laid a folded comforter, not so much for cold nights as for smothering flames. He immediately set to work stacking wood and adding just the right dose of gasoline. When he was done, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of matches; he was almost never without one.

Roy struck the match and lit his creation, watching peacefully as his mini-bonfire blazed into life. He sat down on the chair and spread the comforter over his legs--it _was_ a bit chilly tonight, after all. He regretted not having gotten _the glove_ , a crude, but most effective device of his own design that enabled him to create a spark by snapping his fingers. It was actually rather badass, if he did say so himself. But it was locked away in his bedroom, along with the one copy of Playgirl he dared to own, underneath his bed where two people were undoubtedly engaging in some teenaged fluid exchange all over his freshly clean sheets. 

He leaned back and gazed lazily at the amber--

_That little brat’s eyes are the exact same color._

\--flames. As with liking men, it never occurred to him that it was unnatural to find solace in fire. It was what it was, and how it had always been. He didn’t get off on it, not in the sexual sense, and he had no desire whatsoever to burn buildings or cars or people. But simply this, reveling in the warmth and glow of what amounted to a freaking _campfire_ , was enough to give him peace. He saw no reason on earth to try and find some sort of deeper, hidden meaning behind it.  Some kids liked video games; he liked fire.  It was really as simple as that, as far as he was concerned. 

Roy heard approaching footsteps. He didn’t even have to turn around.

“You’re not being a very good host right now, coming out here like this,” he said, never taking his eyes away from the fire.

Maes reached the clearing and sat down on the ground next to Roy’s feet. He’d given up cigars for a bottle of Jack and offered it to Roy. “Meh. Thought you might be thirsty.”

Only then did Roy spare him a glance, not wanting to pay any attention at all to how remarkably green his eyes appeared in the light of the flames. “Thanks,” he said, taking the bottle and upending it for a long, burning swig. He rarely drank, but whenever he did, beer just didn’t fit the bill like the hard stuff. He wiped his mouth and handed the bottle back to Maes. 

“Anyone catch your eye tonight?” Maes asked, edging closer to the chair and sticking his legs under the comforter, resting them all too cozily against Roy’s.

The teen’s guard immediately went up… but so far, so good. “Nope,” he replied. “What about you? I see Gracia was following you around like a lost puppy again.”

Maes shrugged and took another drink before answering. “Yeah. She’s nice and all…”

“But?”

“But I’m just not interested in her like that.” Maes nudged Roy on the elbow with the bottle.

Roy took it and drank again. “I don’t see why not. She’s a fuck lot better than most of those skanks that hang all over you.”

“I’m not into them either.” 

Roy took one last, deep taste before giving the bottle back to Maes. “That’s funny, since you’ve already fucked half of them.”

“That’s precisely why I’m not interested,” Maes replied with a smirk. “Besides,” he added, tapping the bottle of whiskey with his finger, “I don’t want a _girlfriend_ right now.”

“Yeah, well you don’t want a boyfriend right now either,” Roy said, gently but firmly pushing away the legs that had mysteriously become wrapped around his. 

“Come on, Roy. You _never_ thought about it? ” Maes sullenly curled his offending legs beneath him and gazed up into Roy’s face. “Not even once?”

“Of course I have, jackass,” Roy said, snatching the bottle away from him. “But you’re my best friend, man. I can’t go there, not with you. It’s like you don’t even remember how bad it got between you and Riza after you had sex with her. None of us thought you guys would ever talk again after that shit." He took a drink and swallowed hard, vaguely aware that he would be very drunk very soon if he kept up at that pace. “Besides, _you’re not gay_. You’re not even remotely bisexual. You’re just one of the rare species of straight man who’s not afraid to be honest about being curious.”

“Maybe,” Maes said, leaning back on his hands. “I just know that I want to fuck you.”

Roy stared down at the bottle for a long time.  

“Fine,” he finally said, turning to look his best friend in the eye. “Then let me fuck you.”

“What?”

Maes’ eyes widened behind his glasses; it was precisely the reaction that Roy had expected.

“You wanna be with me so badly, right? Let _me_ fuck _you_.”

“But… that’s…”

“… not what you want,” Roy concluded for him. He tossed the bottle at him and leaned forward in his chair. “You want me to beat you off and you want me to suck your dick, but what? I can’t fuck you in the ass? Well, that’s not really fair, is it?”

Roy turned back to the fire, trying to soothe his growing ire. He heard Maes sigh heavily. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw him set the bottle of whiskey down on the ground beside him.

The fire blazed on. Inside the house, bad rap music had given way to bad metal. 

“Alright. I get it.”

Roy turned to look at him. “Maes, if you really get it, then stop trying to fucking grope me all the goddamn time. I never see you molest chicks like that.”

“Well… that’s because… I just thought…” The teen paused to push up his glasses. “I mean, come on, Roy. It’s not like you know a lot of guys who’d be into it. I just thought, you know, that… I mean... at least this way you wouldn’t have had to go looking for it.”

“Dude. You really think I’m so horny that I would just jump all over every guy I see? Do you wanna fuck every single chick you meet?”

“Yes.” 

Maes’ expression was so sincere that Roy couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

“Asshole,” he muttered. “Hand me that bottle.”

Maes watched with a lecherous smirk as Roy held the bottle up to his lips for a drink. “You know, call me what you want, but I don’t think my cock would twitch every time you wrapped your mouth around that bottle if I was totally straight.”

Whiskey sprayed from Roy’s mouth as he gagged, hacking and coughing at Maes’ words. 

“ _HEY BOYS! WHAT’S GOIN-_ Oh my God, Roy?”

Riza and Sheska bumbled into the clearing with Jean in tow. Sheska’s bra was still wrapped around her head. Jean cradled a six-pack under his arms and tried to keep enough distance between himself and the girls to keep from being bowled over.

“You alright, man?” he asked, watching as Roy leaned over in his chair. “Don’t fuckin’ hurl.”

“Yeah, that’s my job!” Sheska yelled merrily, her unrestrained breasts bouncing happily in agreement.

“He’s fine,” Maes reassured them. “He just can’t handle his liquor.”

“Lightweight.” Riza grabbed the bottle from him and helped herself. 

Roy cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. He turned to meet his best friend's amused stare. “Fuck you,” he mouthed silently, standing up so that the girls could have his seat. He playfully, but firmly, tugged on Maes' hair as he stepped over him and sat down on the ground, making sure that Jean was lodged firmly between them.

“You need to feed your fire, man,” Jean observed.

“Ooh, I got it!” Sheska snatched the bra from her head and threw it into the center of the flames before plopping down on Riza’s lap.  _“WHOOOOOO YEEEEEAHHHH!!!”_ she cried, following with a large, most impressive belch.

“I give her five minutes,” Roy muttered, divvying up the beer among everyone.

“Ten,” Jean countered.

“Eh. I think she might hold out for fifteen,” Maes added.

“Five bucks?” Roy offered.

“Deal,” Jean and Maes accepted, sealing their bet with a clinking of bottles. 

The friends sat around the dwindling fire, drinking and laughing. Roy soon added more wood to the pyre, as Sheska’s bra did little more than give off the unpleasant odor of burning material. 

This… this was okay. Roy was happy to be surrounded by the handful of people who accepted him completely. It was more than okay, he realized, hiding a smile by chugging the fantastically gross-tasting ale.

It was actually quite nice. 

*****

Sheska managed to humor them for a full half hour before vomiting. Riza somehow declared _herself_ winner of the bet and happily confiscated three Abes from the fellows.

Roy found two empty condom wrappers on his bed, like some sort of foul pillow mints.   Donning a pair of latex gloves, he stripped his bed and threw everything in the washer, but fell asleep watching TV before he had a chance to dry anything. 

He woke up late the next morning and rushed to get ready for school, despite having a mild hangover. At some point during the night, Maes had covered him with a blanket. 

As far as he could tell, his virginity was still firmly intact.  

Either that, or Maes would never make his future wife a happy woman.

*****

“Roy!”

Al launched himself into Roy’s arms and hugged him. The teen was stunned, but quite touched, by the gesture and held the small boy securely in the crook of his arm... not that he had much choice with the death grip Al had around his neck. 

“So what do you want to do today, Al?” he asked, listening as Mrs. Elric fluttered around the house, talking softly to herself as she got ready to leave for work.

“Can we color?”

“Yep.”

“Can we play checkers?”

“You bet.”

“Can we play outside?”

“Sure, why not?”

Al closed his eyes and grinned, and Roy had no choice but to reciprocate. He had to admit it: he loved the kid already.

And as for the other one…

Roy stared at his nemesis, who stood by the foot of the stairs, frowning at the floor. “Is that okay with you, Ed?” he asked.

“I don’t care,” the child muttered stubbornly. He kicked the base of the first step for added emphasis.

Fair enough.

“Brother got in trouble,” Al informed Roy with a conspirator’s whisper. 

“Ohhh.” That wasn’t what Roy had wanted, but then again, perhaps his vital body parts would be safe from here on out.

“Okay,” Mrs. Elric said, walking over to them. “I’m off.” She turned to look at her firstborn son. “Edward, come here please.”

Ed kicked the step again and trudged over, never looking up. His cowlick poked out in front of him like a strange blond antennae. 

“I think you have something to say to Roy, don’t you?” Mrs. Elric asked.

The headstrong boy stood his ground and said nothing.

“Edward.” Mrs. Elric’s tone had taken on an edge of warning. “I won’t ask you again.”

Roy and Al waited patiently. Roy didn’t really feel an apology was necessary, but he wasn’t about to interrupt Mrs. Elric to say so.

The boy sighed as if all the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. He folded his arms and scowled angrily. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Mrs. Elric shook her head. “Complete sentences, please. Or do you want to make me late for work?” 

Ed scrunched his face and tried again. “… I‘m sorry I kicked you.”

“Thank you, Edward,” Roy said. 

He knew Ed didn’t mean a single word of it, but a lot of grown-ups didn’t get that. He also knew it must have been murder for the kid to be put on the spot like that, forced to do something he didn’t want to do. Roy was surprised at his own level of sympathy, considering he was the one who was kicked.

Mrs. Elric leaned over and kissed Ed on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said sweetly. She kissed Al and gave Roy a gentle pat on the shoulder. “See you boys later,” she said, heading out the door.

“Say, Al,” Roy said, setting the adorable youngster on the ground. “Why don’t you go grab the checkerboard and bring it downstairs? We’ll play a few games before dinner.”

The child’s face lit up as he took off up the stairs.

Roy shoved his hands into his pockets and stared down at Ed, who was looking at the floor again.

“Would you like to play?” he asked.

Ed shrugged and kicked at the floor with his left leg. Roy was still very much fascinated by the automail appendages and hoped to be able to ask him about it one day.  

If he didn't kill him first.

“Well, Al and I are going to play. You’re welcome to join us.” 

A suspicious amber gaze fell upon Roy, who merely shrugged it off and walked into the kitchen to clear a playing space on the table. 

Maybe, just _maybe,_ if he could keep him guessing, he stood half a chance of getting through the night…

*****

… or so he thought until Ed crept up behind him while he and Al played checkers, cut off a considerable chunk of his hair, tossed it up into the air like some strange, black confetti, and ran away with scissors flailing dangerously about before barricading himself in his bedroom, all the while laughing and screaming like a banshee.

And so, a new evening in the Elric house had begun.

 


	4. Chapter 4

A week ago, if anyone had told Roy that he would be more outraged at having his hair assaulted than his crotch, he would have told them they were insane.

“Ed! Open this door right now!”

He tried the knob again, as if the child would have miraculously unlocked it during his tirade. He then beat a fist against the door, causing it to rattle in its frame.

“Edward!!”

Roy didn’t want to touch the back of his head again. While a part of him knew that the damage probably wasn’t as bad as he imagined, still, it wasn’t as if he had the fullest, thickest head of hair to begin with. 

He stepped away from the door and stood there, stubbornly determined to wait him out. All night if need be. Unless he had a refrigerator and a toilet in there, the little fucker had to come out at some point, right? And when he did, Roy would--

“Roy?”

Al stood at the head of the stairs. Roy took one look into the boy’s large, fearful eyes and immediately felt like the world’s biggest asshole for his behavior, however justified it may or may not have been. Just what had he planned on doing if he’d been able to get into the room? Of course he would have never struck Ed; as much as Roy had envisioned strangling the little bugger, he knew in his heart he would have never actually _done_ it. 

But that wasn’t to say that the wrong words couldn’t be just as irreparable. After years of moving around from home to home and living with people grossly unfit to reproduce, Roy knew that very well.

While he didn’t know the exact story, the word around town was that Ed and Al’s father had simply up and taken off, leaving Mrs. Elric to fend for herself. Even though he didn’t have parents of his own, if the rumor was true, Roy could almost understand the kid’s actions toward him.  Hell,  _all_ men.  He didn’t have to be a shrink to see that.

Although on the other hand, it stood to reason that the child really was pure evil, plain and simple.

The teen let out a large sigh of forfeit, exhaling his anger- _most_ of it, anyway-in the gust of air that exited him. 

“Everything’s okay, Al,” he said wearily, walking over to the youngster and ruffling his short (and thick) hair. 

“I’m sorry,” the child said. 

Roy could tell right away that it was not the first time he’d ever apologized for his brother’s actions. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” he reassured him, mustering enough energy for a lopsided smile. “Wanna help me with dinner again?”

Al nodded eagerly and held out his hand, a gesture that tugged at Roy’s heart more than he cared to admit. He enclosed the tiny outstretched hand into his own and led the boy down the stairs and into the kitchen.

As he and Al nosed around the freezer, Roy’s eyes happened upon something that gave him an idea…

*****

An hour later, Ed sulked down to the dining room table as Roy and Al ate. He scowled at their talking and laughing as if the very sound of it grated against his nerves.

He looked down at the plate that had been prepared for him… then at his brother’s… then Roy’s… and finally back at his once again.

Even as he entertained Al, Roy could feel the sheer amount of anger behind Ed's stare and braced himself for impact.

“Hey.”

“So anyway, Al,” Roy said, purposely ignoring Ed’s rather rude interruption. “I promise you, it’s not a bad word. Go ahead, say it.”

Al clapped a hand over his mouth and giggled fiendishly. “Nuh-uh,” he said through his fingers. “ _You_ say it.”

“Hey!”

Roy stared off into space, pretending to think of a way to phrase himself when in actuality he was trying to determine how much longer he could get away with ignoring Ed. “Okay,” he said. “You must never, ever, eat your _boogers_.”

“Ewww!!” Al exclaimed before dissolving into a fresh fit of laughter. Roy chuckled at the child’s glee and only then did he decide to acknowledge Ed before God only knew what the kid might think to do to get his attention. 

“What is it, Edward?”

“What’s this?” The child motioned at the plate set before him and glared at Roy.

Roy cast a casual gaze down at Ed’s plate as if he weren’t the one who had prepared it. “Let’s see… that’s liver… kidney beans… broccoli… and _milk_.” The teen simply could not help but smile as he put all of his heart and soul into the last word. He popped a French fry into his mouth for added emphasis; he and Al had feasted on burgers and fries, and were about to dig into a positively sinful-looking chocolate cake. 

“Why don’t I get…” Ed started. His voice trailed away into nothingness; even he knew the sheer stupidity of the question he was about to ask. He set his face to stubborn and tried again. “I want a burger,” he demanded.

“I’ll be happy to make you one when my hair grows back,” Roy said softly. “In the meantime, enjoy your liver. It comes from the same animal, if that makes you feel any better.”

A look of animated horror came over Al’s face at the idea of glorious burgers and godawful liver emanating from the same source.

“Milk too, Brother,” he added, more than happy to contribute. “Right, Roy?”

“That’s right.” Roy sat back triumphantly and waited, wondering if he should prepare to duck.

But instead of coloring him _or_ the walls with vile shades of brown and red (Roy had to admit the liver and beans _were_ rather gross; he had barely been able to stomach the smell of them as they had cooked), Ed stared at Roy with such a look of hurt and betrayal that the teen found himself taken aback by the intensity of it. The child then turned around and stormed out of the dining room. Roy heard tiny but powerful feet stomping their way up the stairs, across the ceiling, and into the bedroom, followed by the slamming of a door. 

_… What was that?_

Doubt and guilt crept into Roy; he hadn’t expected that reaction at all, not that he had been looking _forward_ to Ed’s acting out. But now, with that hurtful look imprinted on his mind, he actually felt… kind of bad.

_No I don't! He cut my fucking hair!_

That’s right. And it wasn’t as if he’d withheld a meal from him altogether. If Ed chose not to eat the perfectly edible dinner that was made for him, then Roy couldn’t force him to do so. 

Even so, he made a mental note to prepare something infinitely more desirable for their evening snack.   Not because he felt bad about it. 

Because he didn’t.

Not one damn bit.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, momentarily forgetting his company. 

“That’s a bad word for sure, Roy,” Al dutifully informed him, drowning his remaining fries in ketchup.

Roy smirked. “Yes it is, Al. I’m sorry.”

Al shrugged and proceeded to dig a fry out of the lake of ketchup on his plate. “’Sokay,” he said, plopping it into his mouth. 

“Wait a second,” Roy started. He was thoroughly confused as to how a boy naïve enough to question the validity of “boogers” as a bad word knew without a shadow of a doubt about the F-bomb. He posed the question to the youngster as he cut generous portions of cake for both of them.

“Mom told me so… even though she says it sometimes,” Al explained, shrugging it off as he happily eyed the cake.

“Oh.” Roy, who for the life of him could not imagine Mrs. Elric saying the word “darn” let alone anything harsher, slid a slice of cake to Al and dug into the piece in front of him. 

“So, Al,” he said through a mouthful of what was easily one of the best tasting cakes he had ever eaten in his life. “What should I do to get your brother to stop hating me?”

“He doesn’t hate you. He likes you,” Al said, devouring the slice in record time and licking chocolate from the side of his mouth. 

Roy snorted laughter. “What the… what in the world makes you think that?”

“He told me so. Can I have another piece of cake, please?”

At first, Roy was entirely too stunned to move. “One more piece,” he said dazedly, scooping another slice onto Al’s plate. “Um… what do you mean he told you so?”

“Today on the school bus I was talking about you and I told him I liked you and he said he liked you too,” the boy spoke quickly, not wanting to waste precious cake-eating time by talking. 

Roy backed off, letting Al enjoy the rapturous wonder of Mrs. Elric’s homemade cake. The teen was convinced that he had been mistaken, that, if anything, Ed would have proclaimed just how much he _didn’t_ like Roy... Right?

Honestly, the kid was getting harder to figure out by the minute.

*****

Later, while Al busied himself with Rugrats videos, Roy slowly made his way up the stairs and stopped in front of the door to Ed’s bedroom. While he was fairly positive Ed hadn’t died of starvation, neither had he made a sound in the last half hour.  

Because he was completely expecting the door to be locked, Roy was shocked when the knob turned easily in hand.

“Ed?” Roy spoke up, stepping into his room for the first time.

Ed’s room was… the most eclectic gathering of crap Roy had ever seen in his life. It was, almost literally, an explosion of clothes, action figures, stuffed animals, and posters. It was impossible to take all of it in with one glance. There was no resounding theme in the room, although he could spot glimpses of the boy’s interest in mecha here and there between the other layers of madness.

The owner of said eclectic explosion was on the bed, lying down on his side. He spared Roy a scornful scowl before looking away.  Once again, despite being the _victim_ here, Roy felt like an asshole.   

“May I come in?” he asked, even though he was already inside of the room, and even though he fully expected Ed not to answer him. Because he didn’t want to appear nosier than he already was--

_Holy shit, he’s got Gen 1 Transformers all over the place!_

\--Roy walked over to the bed and sat down on the floor at the foot of the bed, pulling his legs up so that he could rest his elbows on his knees. He knew he was making himself most vulnerable in doing so; Ed’s feet were right there at the back of his head. But the teen felt that actually going so far as to sit on the small bed while the boy was in it would be… a bit weird. 

They remained that way for minutes.  _Seven_ of them, to be exact. Roy had counted off each one by looking at the Robotech clock on the desk in front of him. He turned around and saw Ed’s golden eyes quickly dart away from him. Had he been staring at the back of his head the entire time?

“Would you like it if I don’t come back after tonight?” Roy asked.  He surprised himself by asking; it wasn’t necessarily what he’d planned to say. But now that it was out there, he waited patiently for an answer.

Another minute passed. Finally, Ed looked at him with a creased brow. Roy could see the child’s mind working, trying to figure him out.

_Likewise, kiddo._

“…I don’t care,” Ed muttered stubbornly before turning over and facing the wall. 

Roy smiled, more relieved with his roundabout acceptance that he imagined he would be. He turned back to the front and gazed around the room some more. He spotted the figure of one of his all-time favorite characters lying on a chair.

“You know, I’ve got an Optimus Prime figure that I’ve never opened,” he admitted. “I’ve always wanted to play with him but I never have.”

“He’s just sittin’ in a box?” Ed turned over and gaped at Roy, momentarily too stunned by the concept of unopened toys to remember his stubbornness. 

“Yep,” Roy nodded. “Believe that?”

Mystified, Ed shook his head. “That’s… _stupid_.”

Roy laughed at Ed’s unyielding honesty. “Yes, it is,” he agreed, standing up and stretching his legs. He walked over to the door and paused long enough to look into Ed’s indiscernible face. 

“I’ll see you downstairs,” he said expectantly, exiting the room and closing the door behind him before giving Ed a chance to respond.

There had been no apologies, no reprimands, nothing at all, save for their all-too-brief moment of bonding over Transformers. Still, Roy couldn’t help but feel as if some small measure of real progress had been made between them. Or maybe he was just deluding himself.

Either way, he would find out soon enough.

*****

“Man, that Angelica is a freakin’ jerk,” Roy observed, popping a chip into his mouth.

“Mm-hm,” Al agreed, following suit. 

They sat on the couch with a large bag of sour cream and onion potato chips between them. Roy reluctantly had to admit that Rugrats was pretty entertaining. Certainly more so than a certain Sponge.

He froze when he felt a small hand touch his back; both he and Al had been too engrossed in the show to hear Ed’s quiet descent down the stairs. Before he could turn around, he felt something fall into his lap. 

The teen looked down.

And smiled.

“Thanks, Ed,” he said softly, picking up Optimus Prime and turning him over in his hand, feeling stupid and embarrassed for being so moved by such a simple thing.

“I’m _not_ givin’ him to you for keeps,” Ed replied, waving off the sentiment and walking into the kitchen. 

“See?” Al said, using the moment as a perfect opportunity to take the chips and claim them as his own. “I told you he liked you,” the boy said, rummaging through the greasy bag. “He won’t even let _me_ play with his Transformers.”

“Is that so?” Roy asked. 

It made him feel good about what he had decided to do…

*****

Ed removed the cover from the tray that had been waiting on the table for him.

He stared down at the burger, fries, and cake.

And smiled. 

Although the gesture didn’t make him feel bad at all about what he had done. Not the hair-cutting; he actually _did_ feel a little bit bad about that.

But the other thing… the thing that Roy hadn’t found out about yet.

That, as far as eight-year-old Edward Elric was concerned, was pure genius.

He grinned to himself as he took a seat at the table and merrily dug into his food, already plotting his next course of action.

*****

Because Mrs. Elric was running late tonight, both Al and Ed were fast asleep by the time she got home. Roy filled her in on the day, quickly glossing over the hair incident. He wouldn’t have told her at all, if not for wanting to beat Al to the punch. 

The kind woman sighed and shook her head. “And still, you insist on coming back. You must be a glutton for punishment,” she said as she handed him his earnings.

Roy shrugged. “I guess I like a challenge.”

Mrs. Elric grinned. “Well, you must be doing something right,” she said, nodding at Optimus. “That’s one of his favorite things in the world.”

“Then I’ll be sure to take good care of him,” Roy said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Roy.”

Roy turned to leave and was stunned to hear a gasp… followed by a chuckle. He blushed furiously and placed a hand over the spot where Ed had cut, assuming the woman was laughing at that.

“Oh, no, no, no, Roy, it’s not that,” Mrs. Elric said, moving his hand away and spinning him around, staring down at him with an apologetic, but _extremely_ amused look.   “Um…” She laughed again. “I’m sorry… it’s just that … it seems that Transforming thing isn’t the only gift that my son gave you.”

“Huh?” Roy frowned in confusion.

Mrs. Elric giggled and reached behind Roy’s back, pulling off the piece of paper that had been taped there since… who knew? She handed it to Roy, who looked down at it and blushed again.

“I’m sorry, Roy. I’m awful for laughing,” Mrs. Elric said with a hand over her mouth, reminding Roy of Al. 

Roy shook his head and grinned. “No, it’s… it’s… alright. Thank you for saying something,” he added, suddenly understanding the incredulous look on Al’s face right as he'd left his room.

“Goodnight,” he said, leaving the house. Now, thankfully, sign-free.

*****

Roy paused on the doorstep.  He looked down at Ed's creation--a sign written with jittery letters informing the world that he ate his own boogers--and smiled, in spite of himself.  

“You little shit.”

He started to crumble the sign into a ball and paused. 

Then, completely at a loss as to why he was doing so, he neatly folded it and shoved it into his front pocket. 

He walked down the driveway and climbed into Jean’s car, where the smoking teen could not wait to launch into a rant about his day.

“Sweet Optimus! Anyway, dude. Listen to this shit. So I’m at work right, and you know Maria Ross? She’s that chick I was trying to talk to awhile back? Well, she told me she had a boyfriend and that’s why she wouldn’t go out with me. But today I find out that not only does she not have a boyfriend, but she likes Maes! I mean, what the fuck, right? So she totally lied to me. I mean, I get it, ya know? Maes is like a god; if I were queer, I’d totally be into him. But anyway, I just think it’s fucked up that she did that and now… hey… what the hell happened to your hair?”

"Shut the hell up and drive, Jean," Roy demanded with very little bite.  He tightened his hold around Optimus as Jean rambled on, gazing out at the passing night sky and wondering what new adventures tomorrow would bring...   
  
...and exactly what that devious runt's next course of action might be.


	5. Chapter 5

Roy wished he was dead. Then again, World History had that effect on everyone.

He sat at his desk, quiet and aloof, presenting the image of a studious pupil taking notes when in fact he was a dreadfully bored pupil doodling in his notebook, listening to the teacher--who was obviously decrepit enough to have been around for all of the shit he was spewing--ramble on about… something. He didn’t know and he didn’t care.

In an effort to stay awake, short of stabbing himself with his pencil, he looked around the classroom at the faces of his fellow students, most of whom he didn’t like, or didn’t like him, or some combination thereof. Breda, who had naturally been the first person to make a big production out of Ed’s barberistic stylings, spotted his gaze and promptly gave him the finger. His eyes moved past that class act and spotted Maes, who was brazenly reading Maxim in full view of everyone. Roy smiled softly and shook his head; it was such a Maes thing to do.  And because it was, no one else seemed to mind. The crafty teen looked up at him and winked. Two desks over, Sheska was chewing a piece of bubble gum as if it was the last one on earth. He grinned and turned back to his desk, where he found himself thinking about what was to come after school.

He’d gotten the call during lunch. Mrs. Elric had to go into work early and wouldn’t be home by the time Ed and Al got off the bus, so she had asked him if he would accompany them home with the Rockbells. It was a damn tall order, having to handle those two in the presence of complete strangers, but the woman--as always--had just been so damn sweet about it that there was no way Roy could have refused. And so after this abortion of education was over, he would walk the quarter of a mile it took to get to the elementary school and dutifully wait with all the other parents and siblings for Ed and Al to get out of school.

_That little shit better not give me a hard time._

Better to hope for world peace. That seemed a hell of a lot more obtainable.

He set to work, furiously sketching images of flames in his notebook. Drawing them wasn’t nearly as soothing as creating the real thing, but it helped. By the time the last bell of the day rang, and not a moment too soon, he had filled three pages with nothing but. 

Roy stood up and stretched, yawning loudly. Maes and Sheska joined him. 

“You and your visions of flames,” Maes said, staring down at Roy’s artwork.

“Hmph. Beats practically jerking off to Maxim in front of the entire class,” Roy countered, to Sheska’s giggling, gum-filled delight.

Maes shrugged off the insult. “They should be so lucky. Only certain people are special enough to see me do _that_ ,” he said, giving Roy a look that sailed right over Sheska’s head.

“I gotta go. See you guys later.” The flustered teen quickly snatched up his things and walked out of the classroom.

“What was that all about?” Sheska asked.

Maes looked at the doorway Roy had exited. “No idea,” he lied. He glanced down at his frantically gum-chomping friend. “Damn. You wanna slow down there, Chief?  It's a miracle you haven't severed your tongue yet.”

“Shut up!” Sheska playfully punched Maes in the arm. 

“Come on, Bra-Burner,” he said, wrapping the same arm around her neck. “Hungry?”

“Only if you’re paying. Whoremonger.” Sheska giggled… and almost choked on her gum.

The two friends left the room in search of Jean, Riza, and golden arches.

*****

_Oh._ _My._ _God._

Roy was drowning… in a sea of fanatical, just-released elementary school students. 

They were everywhere, swarming like bees. Or cockroaches. Or some other offensive bug. He looked around helplessly, with no clue as to how he was even going to begin to find Ed and Al amidst such insanity. 

And the noise. Dear Lord, the noise. Hundreds of small children screaming and crying and laughing all at once. It was truly  _hell on earth._  

He figured his best bet was to stand his ground and hope that they saw him. Al was nondescript enough to blend in with all of the madness.  Roy pinned his hopes on being able to spot Ed’s automail--or that damned antenna--but with all of those small bodies zipping around at the speed of sound, he couldn’t even count on that. And there was always the possibility that Ed did not wear clothes that showed off his most identifiable trait as well.

Just as he was about to curse himself for falling prey to Mrs. Elric’s kindness, a small, happy, and--thank God!--familiar voice broke through the din and fell upon his ears.

_“Roy!!”_

The frazzled teen looked toward the direction of the voice and saw Al running towards him, weaving through the maze of young bodies like a pro. He smiled in spite of himself, already well-accustomed to having that reaction to the adorable youth, and waved him over. 

“Hey there, Al,” he said, having no choice but to hold onto him as he catapulted himself into Roy’s arms.

“Hi Roy!” the child said happily, patting him on the head. “How’s your hair?”

Roy chuckled. “It’s better,” he said. “Where’s Ed?”

Al turned around in Roy’s arms and scanned the zoo of younglings. “Right there,” he said, to the teen’s astonishment, picking him out of the crowd in no time.

Roy’s eyes followed Al’s tiny finger and saw…

_Uh oh._

The first thing he noted was the scowl. Honest to God, the kid should trademark that thing. 

He was being escorted by a young female teacher who did not look very happy. Not at all. 

_This can’t be good._

“Are you Roy?” the young woman asked.

Roy nodded and stared down at Ed, who crossed his arms and looked away. 

_Trademark that too, while you’re at it._

“He’s all yours,” she said, holding out a sealed envelope. “Would you be so kind as to give this to Mrs. Elric? And let her know I’ll be calling her tomorrow morning.”

Roy took the envelope. “Okay.”

She stared down at Ed with a distasteful look that Roy did not think was necessary, no matter what sort of atrocity the kid had committed, and surprised the hell right out of himself by almost opening his mouth to say so.

“Thank you,” he said instead, leaning over and setting Al on the ground.  “You guys ready?”

“Yep!” Al squeed. 

“Ed! Al!”

A shrill young voice hit Roy’s ears, causing him to involuntarily scrunch his shoulders against the sound of it. As Ed’s teacher stalked away, he saw a little blond girl waving at them.

“Is that your neighbor?” he asked Al.

“Yeah, that’s Winry,” Al said, smiling in such a way that led Roy to believe the boy had a bit of a crush. Which was… _so cute!_

Al took off towards her, leaving Roy and Ed alone.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

It seemed a small shrug of the shoulders was the only answer he would get for now. It would do. 

“Come on,” he said. He held back the urge to put his arm on Ed’s shoulder, worried that it might cause him to do something crazy in his present mood, like bolt. 

As they walked through the throng of children, Roy could sense Ed crowding next to him, as if he did not want to come in contact with anyone else. He completely sympathized; he often felt the same way while walking along the hallways of his own school. He found himself wondering just how hard Ed must have it there, being so different than all of the other students--

“Look out! The robot’s coming!!”

Roy’s head snapped up, and he could sense Ed’s body tighten in reaction to the verbal jab. He saw two little snot-nosed bastards pointing and laughing at Ed, and had a strong desire to punt kick each of them. 

“Why don’t the two of you go play in traffic?” he muttered under his breath.

He caught the sound of a gasp at his side and looked down to see Ed gaping up at him in shock. Roy smiled warmly; what better way to bond than by ill-wishing a couple of jerkass kids?

They caught up with Al, Winry, and a very small, peculiar looking old woman with what Roy considered to be the most obscene, phallic-looking bun at the top of her tiny head.

“Ah, you must be Roy,” the woman said, looking him up and down.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied politely. 

“Nice to meet you. Come on now, let’s get out of here. I need my pipe.” She turned around and began walking away with Al and Winry, bulldozing her way through the gathering. 

_What a strange little lady,_ Roy thought as he obediently followed her. 

Ed remained by his side all the way to the car and the teen was again overcome with a feeling of protectiveness that he had never anticipated he could feel toward the child who seemingly lived only to terrorize him.

Roy, Al, and Ed piled into the backseat of the car, waiting patiently as the old woman lit a smelly pipe and sucked away on it in a manner that would have been hot… had it been anyone else. Anywhere. Ever.

“So, Roy. What’s your story?” she asked, pulling out of the parking lot and immediately slamming on the brakes, filling the car with obscenities as she told off a parent who had cut her off.

“Uh… I don’t really have one,” Roy said nervously, trying not to meet her eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Hmph. Don’t think I haven’t heard your name around town, young man,” she said, chewing away on her pipe. “But it’s my experience that most people around these parts aren’t worth the shit that comes out of their asses so don’t think I’m one to believe everything I hear.”

Roy’s eyes damn near flew out of his head. Beside him, Al giggled fiendishly. Only Ed remained indifferent to the conversation, choosing instead to stare out of the window at the passing scenery.

“Grandma!” The little blond girl’s horrified voice filled the car.

Surreal didn’t even _begin_ to cover it. 

*****

After what Roy concluded to be the strangest car ride he would ever experience, he and Al raided the kitchen pantry for food while Ed retreated to his bedroom. He thought it would be best to give the boy some time to himself to brood over whatever had happened that day and so instead, he got Al settled and watched him soldier through his math workbook, sweating over problems that, as he recalled, really did seem difficult at such a young age. 

Indeed, if he could have ever had his choice in siblings, Al would have been the one. He adored the kid in droves and very much enjoyed spending time with him. It didn’t seem possible that such sweetness could be contained in one human being. 

But on the other hand…

It wasn’t as if he hated Ed. He didn’t, not at all. But nor did he feel the same sibling-like adoration for him. He was at a loss to explain it and so he let it go, chalking it up to yet another facet of his strange, mysterious psyche. 

Speaking of the little devil, he decided it was time to check in on him. Roy stood up and ruffled Al’s hair. 

“I’ll be back,” he said.

“'Kay, Roy,” Al said, chewing on the tip of his pencil as he pondered an especially difficult math equation. 

Roy darted up the stairs and stopped at Ed’s door, listening for sounds of life. After a moment, he knocked softly and announced his presence.

“Ed? I’m coming in, okay?”

Without waiting for a reply--he surely would have been waiting all day--Roy slowly entered the room. 

Ed was sitting at his desk, reading a manga. Roy walked over to him and, for no reason he could ascertain, took a seat on the floor beside him. 

“Do you have any homework?” he asked.

“Did it,” Ed muttered without raising his head.

“Can I see it?”

The young boy shrugged and motioned his head toward the folder sitting on the edge of his desk. Roy grabbed it. As he flipped through the pages, one thing became fairly obvious, fairly quickly.

Ed was a genius.

Despite the child’s horrifically shaky penmanship, all of his work was without error. Each and every page that had been previously graded boasted perfect scores. It was a most impressive feat.

“This is really something, Ed,” he said with genuine awe.

The boy’s amber eyes broke away from the manga and stared at him, gauging the sincerity of the compliment. 

“Thanks,” he grunted before turning back to his book.

“So,” Roy said, placing the folder on the floor beside him. “Do you want to tell me what happened today?”

For minutes, Ed said nothing. Finally, he spoke up quietly.

“You heard.”

_I heard?_

It took Roy a minute to realize what he meant. “Edward… Do all of the kids call you that?”

“Most of ‘em.” He winced and frowned. “So today I told 'em all to shut their goddamn mouths.”

_I guess he figured out what “gee dee” means, after all._

“Teacher, she yelled at me,” Ed continued, turning to look at Roy, his amazing eyes so full of betrayal that Roy hurt all over at the sight of it. “But she never says anything to them when they pick on me. So I decided to say something for myself.”

The little kid was a right pain in the ass… even so, Roy wanted to wreak havoc on anyone who dared to ridicule him for having automail.  _And_ that worthless excuse for an educator for allowing it to happen.

“You did the right thing,” he said, although he wasn’t positive Mrs. Elric would agree. “You might want to tone down on the swearing, but it’s never a bad thing to stand up for yourself. Especially when you’re dealing with a bunch of dumbass idiots.”

Ed tilted his head slightly to one side and stared at Roy, considering his words.

“ _You_ swear,” he said.

The teen smirked. “I’m older than you, so I’m allowed to.”

“When I grow up, I’m gonna swear all day, every day.”

Roy’s laughter rang out in the bedroom. “I believe you will, kid,” he said, standing up and placing Ed’s folder back on the desk. 

Then, because it seemed to be as natural a reaction as breathing anymore, Roy reached down and placed a gentle hand on top of the boy’s unruly head. “Just don’t do it in front of your mother, okay?” He walked over to the bedroom door and paused. “Do you like spaghetti and meatballs?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

Ed shrugged. Roy was beginning to suspect that he had better learn to decipher those shrugs because they seemed to be the boy’s communication of choice. 

“If not, I could always whip up some more liver for you,” he added, playfully.

Upon seeing Ed’s reaction to his idle threat, Roy was positive that he would never find a middle finger as endearing as he did at that moment. 

*****

As it turned out, Ed did like eating spaghetti and meatballs. 

But apparently not as much as _flinging_ it at him.

_You get a pass for today, runt,_ Roy thought, pulling clumps of pasta and sauce out of his hair as Ed triumphantly laughed his way up the stairs.  _Just for today._  

*****

Later that night, after showering away the last remnants of food from his hair and body, Roy crawled into bed and turned on the television, flipping through two hundred plus channels of nothing to watch.

After settling on one of a thousand reality show repeats, he reached out to his nightstand to put down the controller…

… and saw Ed’s Optimus Prime laying there. 

Roy picked him up and cradled him in his hand, smiling in remembrance of Ed’s selfless gesture.

That kid… what a goddamned enigma he was.

_When I grow up…_

Roy tried to imagine what a grown-up Edward Elric would be like, all swearing aside. He didn’t think the boy would ever be tall, or even reasonably average. He tried to put a more mature spin on that childish face... his hair, maybe a bit longer--though Roy didn’t think that damn cowlick would ever go away--his eyes, a little older, a little wiser, but still that intense golden yellow...

He found that it was something he would very much like to be around to witness, this evolution of Ed. 

Roy traced a finger lightly along Optimus’ head before setting him back on the nightstand and pulling the bed’s comforter up around his shoulders, letting the faux drama of “real” people lull him into sleep… the as yet unrecognizable root of his emotional distinction between Ed and Al still nothing more than a figment of his innermost subconscious.

*****

The ringing of his cell phone woke him long before his alarm clock was scheduled to go off and he was irritated with himself for choosing such an annoying ringtone.

“’lo?” he moaned into the phone, uncertain if he had even answered it properly.

“Roy? It’s Mrs. Elric.”

The half-asleep teen forced his eyes open and sat up in the bed. 

“I’m so sorry to call you this early, but I wanted to catch you before you made plans to get a ride over to the house today.”

“You don’t have to work?” he croaked into the phone.

“Oh, I do,” she said. “Well, I _did_. But I’m not going in. As a matter of fact, I might not be going back to work at all.”

A stab of fear woke Roy right up. “Did something happen?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Elric happily replied. “You see, my husband came home last night. For good this time…”

*****

_“… so I won’t need you to babysit the boys anymore.”_

Roy supposed he should have been happy to hear the news, but he wasn't.

Far, _far_ from it.


	6. Chapter 6

Ed toppled out of bed and landed on his knees, hitting the ground with a clunky thump. He yawned widely and rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands before running them through the disheveled chaos that was his blond hair.

He blindly went through the motions of getting ready for school, snapping at Al for taking too long in the bathroom and immediately apologizing for making him pout--damned if the kid didn’t have a way of weighing on his conscious like nobody else. As he made his way down the hallway--to the smell of a home cooked breakfast, no less--the eight-year-old found himself already dreading the school day. 

It was nothing new. Everywhere he went, people had always treated him like a sideshow attraction. Ed decided long ago that if people wanted to stare, he would damn well give them something to stare at… and so the legend of the Elric brothers was born. Poor Al, whose only crime was being related to him, had his fair share of grief as well, even though he was as sweet as pie. But apparently, being the brother of a robotic freak was also reason enough for scorn. 

Oh well. If he could just make it through the day, preferably without swearing at people, then…

Ed scowled at the anticipation that bloomed in his chest over the idea of seeing Roy. 

Stupid, silly, _old_ Roy. 

Before he realized it, the scowl gave way to a smile… which made him scowl even more.

He bounded down the stairs, wondering exactly how Roy might feel about being on the receiving end of a water balloon or two... or three. He had found an old bag of balloons in his desk and refused to let them go to waste. As he reached the first floor, he paused suddenly, hearing a voice that he didn’t recognize… or did he?

Could it be… _him?_

And if it was…

The young boy frowned, worried.  

What did it mean for later?

What did it mean for _Roy_ _?_

*****

“Edward!”

Hohenheim put Al down and walked over to his firstborn son, who remained at the foot of the staircase, staring at him as if he was a complete stranger.  

Because in many ways, he _was._  

“My God, you’ve gotten so big,” he said, sweeping the unyielding child into his arms and hugging him firmly. 

“Ed, honey, your father is finally home for good. Isn’t that wonderful?” Trisha beamed. 

Hohenheim set Ed back onto his feet and ruffled his hair, prompting the young boy to cringe. “I’ve got so much catching up to do with you and your brother. How have you been?”

Ed craned his neck and glared into the face of his father, his mouth firmly etched in a stubborn frown.

“Is Roy coming?” he asked, turning away from Hohenheim to look at his mother. “Is he coming over after school?”

Hohenheim turned to Trisha and the two adults exchanged a nervous glance. 

“Well… honey…” Trisha started. “Now that your father is here… there won’t be any reason for you and your brother to have a sitter anymore.”

Hohenheim ruffled Ed’s hair again. “What do you say to having your dear old Dad as a babysitter, Edward?”

Ed glanced up from beneath the offending hand of the man responsible for his blond hair and amber eyes. He snatched his head back and stepped away from Hohenheim, glaring at him all the while.

“I want Roy,” he said, beseeching Trisha with those same stunning eyes. “I want to see Roy,” he insisted, his voice taking on an edge of warning that the woman knew all too well.

“But Dad’s home now, Brother,” Al said, trying to be the voice of reason, even though he shared his brother’s sentiments to some degree.

“I don’t care! I want Roy!” The young boy’s breathing began to increase in speed, and his hands clenched into fists by his sides.

“Edward, be reasonable,” Trisha implored him. “One of us is always going to be home now. There’s absolutely no reason for you boys to have a babysitter anymore, unless your father and I ever want to do something--”

_“I… WANT… ROY!!”_ Ed screamed, stamping his bare left foot with enough force to make an imprint on the hardwood floor. 

“Edward Elric,” Trisha began, giving her son a most disapproving look. Al cowered to himself, wanting to avoid the fallout of his mother’s rare, but spectacular wrath.

Hohenheim held up his hand to stop his wife’s tirade. He shook his head gently in understanding, knowing more than anyone that the child was perhaps entitled to his fury, seeing as how he had hardly been a model father figure. 

However, now that he was home, he sought to rectify the damage he had caused. But he had to nip this behavior in the bud right now. This Roy may have been a great sitter, but _he_ was their father. 

“Edward,” he said, speaking softly and slowly, which only served to infuriate the eight-year-old even more. “Your mother has told me all about Roy and I know you boys like him quite a bit. We’re not saying that you can never see him again. But no, son, there will no longer be any need to have someone come to the house to sit with you every day.   Do you underst-- _aaaargh!!!_ ”

Hohenheim, who had just become the latest victim of a tiny but extremely powerful automail foot, collapsed onto the ground in a heap, grabbing onto his crushed right shin and glaring murder at his eldest child, refraining from hurling a slew of pained and deafening expletives by only the thinnest of margins. Ed ignored the wailing cries of horror from his mother and Al, choosing instead to seal the deal by flipping off his father (who was somehow more stunned by _that_ than the kick) after which he ran back up the stairs and into his bedroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. 

He threw himself onto his bed and gave the wall a few courtesy kicks before burying his head into his pillow, ignoring the muffled sounds of worry and alarm that floated up to his room, squeezing his eyes shut against the sting of tears, his naïve eight-year-old heart unable to fathom the reason he felt such a frighteningly monumental sense of loss.

And so began the first morning of the Elric family reunion.

*****

“Hello? Earth to Roy?”

Jean punctuated his query with a solid thump to Roy’s forehead, which finally pulled him out of his trance. He frowned and rubbed the spot that Jean had flicked.

“Asshole!” Roy returned the favor by punching him in the arm. “Why the hell did you do that?”

“Because you’ve been standing there staring into your locker for the past minute,” he explained. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” Roy quickly grabbed his biology book and slammed the door to the locker. “Come on.”

They began to traverse their way through the swarm of students filling the hallway. “I don’t know why you even bother lying to me, man,” Jean said with a sigh. “Especially since you’re so bad at it.”

“Sorry,” Roy muttered, instinctively scrunching his shoulders in an effort to avoid contact with passersby. 

“Something happen with Maes?” he asked quietly, mindful of their surroundings.

Roy shook his head. “No. It’s nothing. Well, it’s _not_ nothing. It’s just that… I lost my job.”

“Is that it?” Jean rolled his eyes. “Dude, I’ve lost, like, _five_ jobs. There’s no reason to look so damn broken up about it. Besides,” he said, patting the place on Roy’s scalp that had fallen victim to Ed. “You won’t have to deal with shit like this anymore. So don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to my boss and hook you up.”

“Thanks,” Roy said, managing a half-smile of gratitude.

That was the last thing he wanted, of course. But he couldn’t very well admit the truth--that he didn’t want another job, that he wanted to stay on as Ed and Al’s sitter, and that he was… well, _sad_ … that he would no longer be able to do so. Because to admit to such things… surely that would sound entirely too weird, even to someone as understanding as Jean.

The two friends entered their next class and took their respective seats. Roy listened patiently while Jean griped about needing a cigarette, his worried mind wondering exactly what kind of man Ed and Al’s father was…

… and why he felt such an overwhelming sense of distrust and dislike for someone he had never met.

*****

Trisha Elric walked into the kitchen, where her husband sat at the table, smoking a pipe and reading the newspaper. 

Her smile was gone, and not a moment too soon. All morning long, and until she saw Al safely to the bus, she felt as if her face might crack from the sheer force of having to maintain her motherly visage. Now, finally free to wallow in the anger that had surfaced since Hohenheim first had the audacity to stroll through the door, anger that had in fact been brewing for all of those years, she clenched her teeth and approached the counter. Caffeine. She needed caffeine, and badly. The smell of that godawful pipe also awakened her desire for a cigarette, but since she hadn’t smoked since before the boys were born, she would have to forego that for now.

“Was it a good idea to let Ed stay home?” Hohenheim asked.

“Yes.” She poured herself a large mug of coffee and drank deeply, unmindful of the burn. “One day won’t hurt anything. Besides, after what happened yesterday, it’s probably not a bad idea at all to keep him home.”

“Hm.” Hohenheim carefully folded the paper and set it on the table in front of him. He shifted his legs under the table, wincing at the pain that ran up his right leg. “Has he always had a habit of cursing his entire class?”

“No,” Trisha replied, drinking again. “Which only makes me wonder how much shit he had to put up with before it got to that point.” She turned around and leaned against the counter, ignoring her husband’s raised brow. 

“I think--”

_“Hohenheim,”_ she said, cutting him off. The woman renowned for her kind and docile nature glared across the room at the father of her children, just barely managing to refrain from heaving the mug at him. “Don’t… _don’t you dare_ … open your mouth to lecture me about how I’ve been raising our children,” she warned, placing the cup on the counter behind her for safe measure. 

“Trisha...”

“I have nothing else to say to you. Not until you’re ready to tell me _where the fuck you were_.”

*****

Ed was easily capable of holding onto his stubbornness forever, but unfortunately for him, his bladder was another story. Around noon, he could wait no longer.

After making sure the coast was clear, he darted out of his bedroom and down the hallway, quickly making use of the facilities. He was too caught up in admiring his stealth to remember that between his automail and the flushing of the toilet, his parents were both very much well aware of his movement. 

As he stepped out of the bathroom to creep-- _loudly_ \--back to his bedroom, he found his mother waiting at the end of the hallway. Before he could make a diving leap into his room, as if that would somehow negate being seen, Trisha called out to him in a voice that gave him sudden pause.

“Mom?” 

Ed immediately pushed his anger over Roy to the back of his mind and felt a stab of alarm at the sight of her. She was smiling, same as always--Ed was hard pressed to recall a time the woman didn’t smile, aside from when she was reprimanding him. But still… something was wrong. 

“Honey, I made lunch,” she said, walking toward him. “Are you hungry?” 

Her voice, while as pleasant as ever, sounded slightly stuffy and the eight-year-old frowned in worry. He shook his head and did not resist when she picked him up in her arms, something she rarely did anymore because he always insisted against it. 

Trisha carried Ed into his bedroom and sat down on the edge of his bed, holding him in her lap--another rarity. She looked him over, head to toe, and grabbed onto both of his arms, holding them up and comparing them.

“You _have_ gotten bigger,” she said, gazing at his hands. “We’re going to have to get you fitted for new automail soon.”

Ed grimaced and stuck out his tongue as if tasting something bad. New automail meant new pain. He was used to it by now, after the many, _many_ refittings and reattachments he’d already experienced in his short life. But that didn’t mean he had to look forward to it. 

“I know you don’t like it, sweetie, but you know Miss Pinako always tries to do it so that it doesn’t hurt for too long.”

Ed nodded dutifully. He didn’t have the heart to tell his mother that Miss Pinako _also_ swore like a sailor while she worked on him and that she was pretty much the sole reason his own language was as colorful as it was.

He fidgeted uncomfortably in her lap--not because he wanted to get out of it, but because he didn’t know what to say or do. One-on-one times with his mother were few and far between because, aside from the times he asserted his independence to the point of solitude, it was always the _three_ of them. Ed could always count on Al to do enough talking for the both of them, and in doing so, he had almost always been able to fly under the radar of having to divulge anything about himself or the things he was going through at school. He knew he caused his mother grief. He just didn’t care to talk about it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” Ed was so caught up in trying to think of what to say that he almost didn’t hear her quiet apology. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, smiling sadly and taking both of his tiny hands into hers. “I just… I just thought… the two of you would be happy to have your father back home.”

“Are _you?_ ”

Trisha Elric stared at her firstborn for a long while, after which she closed her eyes and laughed. Even though Ed didn’t understand why she found his innocent query so humorous, the sound of her laughter was music to his ears. 

“Oh, Edward.  My little man.” She gave his defiant blond cowlick a playful tug and laughed even more at his scowl, which was positively adorable.

Because it seemed to make her happy, he relented and allowed himself to be swept into his mother’s embrace. It was kind of nice, this show of affection. He was beginning to understand why Al was so damn clingy all the time.

He was still upset about Roy. There was plenty of floor and wall--and father--left to kick to get his point across about _that._  

But for now… this would do. 

And so it did. Rather nicely. 

*****

Roy felt like an idiot for being so nervous. It was silly, really; he’d walked up the path to the Elric home plenty of times now. But knowing so didn’t help at all to curb the fear that settled into the pit of his stomach.

_Settle down, Mustang. You’re just returning a toy, that’s all._

Even so, he almost turned around and hightailed it back to Jean’s car.

As he reached the front door, Roy tightened his death grip on Optimus Prime. He knocked with his free hand and waited patiently, wondering whether or not it was too late to abort his mission even as he heard someone approaching the door. 

“Fuck,” he muttered as the door slowly opened… giving Roy his first glance at what Ed would quite possibly look like in about thirty years.

“Roy Mustang, I presume?” the man asked, gazing down at Roy with Ed’s eyes. 

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“I’m Hohenheim, Ed and Al’s father. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, standing back. “Come in.”

“Thank you,” Roy said as he entered the house. 

“So you’re the one who’s trying to take my place, eh?” the older man asked with a wink… although Roy could have sworn he saw a hint of seriousness behind his eyes.

_“Roy!!”_

The flustered teen was saved by Mrs. Elric and Al, who bolted across the living room and jumped into his arms. Roy was surprised at just how happy he was to see him, as if it had been weeks instead of twenty-four whole hours since he was last there. He returned the boy’s tight embrace, breathing in his fresh, just-bathed scent, doing his damnedest to ignore Hohenheim’s deconstructing stare.

“How are ya, Al?”

“Good!” The child smiled happily and patted Roy on top of his head. “Did you meet my dad?”

“I sure did,” Roy said with a nod, pulling away from the child’s magnetic gaze long enough to acknowledge his mother. “Hello, Mrs. Elric. I’m sorry to barge in like this but…”  He held up Optimus for her to see.

“It’s no problem at all,” she said sweetly. “Have you had dinner?”

“Yes. Thank you.” Roy couldn’t help but wonder if the woman ever got tired of being so nice all of the time. He set Al on the ground and smoothed out his hair, which had become quite the bird’s nest due to the boy’s frantic hands. “Is he… up?”

“See for yourself,” Mrs. Elric said, motioning toward the stairs.

*****

She realized it the second she saw Ed’s face light up as Roy turned around to greet him. 

She could have kicked herself for not seeing it sooner.

And she _really_ could have kicked herself when she noticed that Hohenheim saw it, too.

_This isn’t good._  


	7. Chapter 7

Roy couldn’t help but feel like he was on display as he began climbing the stairs to greet Ed. It didn’t _really_ bother him though, save for the cool, disconcerting glare he felt from Hohenheim’s prying eyes. 

He didn’t like the smarmy, condescending man, and he certainly didn’t trust him. Anyone who left his wife and children for no apparent reason and waltzed back into the house as if he’d only made a quick run to the store as opposed to disappearing for years wasn’t worth the breath it took to utter his name, as far as Roy was concerned. 

“Hey there, Ed,” he said, kneeling on the second to last step so that he could remain at eye level with the boy. “I thought you might want to have Optimus back now,” he added, holding out the Transformer. 

“Nope.” The eight-year-old stubbornly folded his arms and shook his head, which caused his cowlick to sway back and forth. “Don’t want him back yet,” he insisted. 

The teen lowered his arm and carefully considered his next move. The last thing he wanted was for Ed to make with the kicking, especially in front of his entire family. He didn’t think it would come to that--something seemed… _different_ , somehow. But then again, when it came to Ed, he could never be completely positive.

“Well, when do you _think_ you might like to have him back?” he asked. 

The moment the question was asked, Roy knew he was screwed. When Ed’s lip curved into a devious half-smile and his golden eyes shined with calculation, he already knew what the answer was going to be:

“Tomorrow,” Ed announced proudly. “I _might_ want him back tomorrow.”

“…Okay.” Roy didn’t mind. That Ed had asked it of him actually made him happier than he cared to admit.

While Hohenheim took no great measures to hide his grumbling, it was quickly drowned out by Trisha’s affectionate laughter. “Alright Edward. Bath time,” she said, making her way up the stairs. “Hook, line, and sinker,” she joked under her breath to Roy. “Say goodnight, honey,” she instructed her son.

“’Goodnight, honey,’” the boy said, grinning wickedly at his own ingeniousness. 

“Oh, get in the bathroom,” Trisha ordered, following up with a playful swat.

Ed scrunched his face and stuck out his tongue--

_“Edward Elric!”_

\--before darting into the bathroom and slamming the door closed, giggling all the way. Only after Roy heard the sound of running water did he allow himself to smile. 

“Well, I guess it looks like we’ll be seeing you again tomorrow.” Trisha reached out and patted the teen’s shoulder in mock consolation, knowing that none of them really ever stood much of a chance when it came to her son. 

Roy stood up. “Really, Mrs. Elric, if it’s too much trouble, I can just leave it here. I don’t want to get in the way of anything,” he said. Not because he truly felt that way, but because it only felt right to offer.

“Absolutely not, young man,” she replied. 

A strange but thoughtful expression came over her kind features, one that Roy couldn’t quite place. 

“He chose you,” she said softly. 

“I guess so,” Roy agreed. For a moment, he had an almost overwhelmingly surreal sensation that they were actually discussing something _more_ than just Ed’s conniving ways. But in the end, he chalked it up to Hohenheim’s annoying and daunting presence; it was enough to weird anyone out.  

“Be careful going home,” Trisha said. 

Roy wished her a good night and watched as she entered the bathroom (“Edward, are you _trying_ to drown yourself in bubbles?”) before making his descent down the stairs. All of his warm, fuzzy feelings came to a crashing halt as he saw Hohenheim sitting on the sofa with Al, smoking a pipe--

_Why is he smoking that shit around him??_

\--and watching him closely. 

While Roy really didn’t care to interact with him again, the last thing he wanted to do was be rude to the man in what was, technically, his own house. So out of respect for his wife and children, the teen swallowed his pride and walked over to the couch.

“It was nice meeting you, sir,” he said with a small nod, hoping like hell that he sounded at least marginally sincere.

Hohenheim stood up and motioned toward the kitchen with his head. “Come. Have a drink with me.” He quickly held up his hand in a defensive gesture. “I don’t mean a _drink_ drink. Water, juice, coffee… whatever you’d like.”

_I’d like to go home, asshole._

“My friend is outside waiting for me,” Roy explained apologetically. 

“Then he can wait a few more minutes.” Hohenheim leered at the sixteen-year-old. “As it seems my sons have become quite _taken_ with you, at least do me the fatherly privilege of asking you a few questions,” he added.

_Great. What the hell does he want?_

Hohenheim turned his attention to his youngest son. “Alphonse, Roy and I are going to go into the kitchen for a minute. I want you to stay right there and read the book I gave you, okay?”

“But I wanna watch Rugrats,” the child implored. 

“Rugrats is not something that a smart young man watches. You want to be a smart young man, don’t you?”

Al frowned. “Yeah,” he said uncertainly. 

Father or not, Roy could have happily punched him for making the kid doubt himself like that. A part of him knew he should probably let it go, but this was Al. 

_No one_ messed with Al. Period.

“If I may,” he said, grabbing the remote. “I have a near perfect grade point average and I _love_ Rugrats.” He handed it to the despondent seven-year-old with a smirk and a wink. 

“Hm.” Hohenheim sucked on his pipe and glared at Roy through a haze of shitty-smelling smoke. “I suppose there are always exceptions,” he said, before turning around and walking out of the room. 

Roy let out a shaky sigh and pressed a hand to his temple. All of this bullshit politeness was giving him a headache and he wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to keep up the charade. It was best just to get it over and done with as soon as possible. He glanced down at the wide-eyed adoration on Al’s face and playfully pulled on his nose before following his worthless excuse for a father into the kitchen.

*****

“I swear, with all the nooks and crannies in your automail you could probably hold a gallon of water in your arm and leg,” Trisha noted, fervently wiping between his fingers. “Okay, shake.”

Ed obediently shook his outstretched right arm and, sure enough, even more droplets of water fell out.  He used to feel immensely guilty about the post bath ritual because he didn’t want to inconvenience his mother any more that he was certain he already did. The culmination of this guilt had resulted in the painful lesson he learned when he had once tried to dry his automail himself… using his mother’s hair dryer. 

Indeed, when metal is firmly attached to the flesh, it is best if that metal _does not_ forcefully expand, not even by the smallest of margins.

Although Miss Pinako had told them both that a little waterlogging wouldn’t hurt, the towel drying was something Trisha still insisted on the nights she didn’t work. And, truth be told, Ed really did enjoy the one-on-one time so he never complained. Much.

“So, child of mine,” Trisha said, pausing to give him an all-knowing look. “Do you think that you’re going to want Optimus back when Roy brings him tomorrow?”

Ed scowled as a blush lit up his face. Damn, she was good. “I don’t know,” he said, already knowing full well that he had every intention of refusing.

“Well, I guess he might just have to keep coming back every day until you decide to take him,” she said.

“Maybe.” He honestly hadn’t thought that far down the road but… sure, why not? 

Trisha stopped wiping and placed the towel on the floor beside her. “It’s kind of a shame, though. How’s he ever supposed to find a job to buy the car he wants if he has to keep coming back here every day?”

Ed opened his mouth and then closed it with a snap. He hadn’t thought about that either. He looked down at the floor, feeling inexplicable sadness welling in his tiny chest. 

He wanted to see Roy. But he actually wanted Roy to be able to get his car too. 

So what was he supposed to do?

His mother heaved a sigh. “Well, I _guess_ if you’re going to make him bring Optimus over here every single day, then I have no choice but to keep paying him to come over.”

Ed furrowed his brow as his mother’s words sank in. He gasped and looked up into her smiling face.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really,” she concurred. 

Since no one else was around he supposed it would be alright, not that he could have held it back any longer, and so he let out the radiant smile that others so rarely had the opportunity to see.

And then he said the thing that very few people ever had the chance to hear so sincerely fall from his often profanity-laced lips.

“Thank you.”

"You're welcome."  Trisha smiled warmly and picked up the towel.  "Now, let's get that leg."

*****

“Do your parents live far from here?”

Roy impatiently tapped his fingers against the cool glass of soda and stared across the table at Hohenheim. He had a full-on headache now and all he wanted to do was go home and light a fire or two. Unfortunately, Hohenheim seemed to sense this and used the opportunity to ask him every question he could possibly think of.

“I don’t have any parents to speak of,” he explained. “I live with my best friend and his parents right now, and yeah, they do live a ways from here.”

“That has to be difficult,” Hohenheim said with what Roy supposed was an attempt at empathy.  And a bad one, at that.

He shrugged off the sentiment and looked down at his drink. “It’s all I’ve ever known, so it is what it is.”

“You’re very mature for your age, Roy.” Hohenheim dumped the pipe tobacco remnants into a nearby ashtray. “Something _the girls_ must appreciate.”

“I guess so,” Roy said. “I wouldn’t know.”

The older man raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “You don’t have a girlfriend?”

“No, I don’t.” Roy took a sip of his drink and waited. It didn’t take a genius to see where this was going. 

Hohenheim set his pipe on the table and leaned back in his chair. He removed his glasses and smoothed back the loose strands of his long hair before replacing them. Roy realized that he didn’t want to see Ed in this pompous, arrogant asshole of a man; he wanted to believe that Ed would be more beautiful than that.

_Whoa._ _Beautiful?_ _… What the fuck???_

“Something wrong, Roy?”

Roy raised his head. “Huh? Uh, no. No, nothing’s wrong. Look, thank you for the drink but friend is waiting outside and I don’t want to make him wait any longer than I already have.”

“What kind of friend is he?”

“… What?”

“Oh, I think you heard me, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” Hohenheim sat up and rested his elbows on the table. The façade was gone. Now he was going for the kill.

“I asked you  _what kind of friend_ is waiting outside for you?”

Roy clenched his teeth as the question… no… the _insinuation_ behind the question resonated throughout him. His sexual orientation wasn’t a big secret; it never had been. He just chose not to advertise it.  

But to be asked like that by _him,_ of all people…

“Jean is one of my closest friends,” he said.  "I'm sorry if that's not the answer you were looking for."

Hohenheim narrowed his eyes. “Are you a faggot, Roy?”

Finally. 

Roy looked into the older man’s eyes with brutal, unflinching honesty.

“Yes, I am.” 

Hohenheim closed his eyes and slowly shook his head, as if bearing witness to some horrendous travesty. “What _on earth_ ever made you think that it was appropriate for you to spend hours a day with my two young sons?  _Alone?_ ”

Roy stood up and pushed in his chair. “I’m gay.  Not perverted.”

“Same difference.”

_“Hohenheim!”_

*****

No one needed to tell Trisha Elric that her husband was no-good. She knew that firsthand. 

But it took a special kind of asshole to ruthlessly browbeat a sixteen-year-old kid about his sexuality.

She glared into the kitchen at the two of them, momentarily united by the shock on their respective faces. Any other time, she would have found it humorous. Roy probably thought she shit sunshine for goodness sake, so to hear her sound so stern--to someone other than _Ed_ , of course--must have knocked him for a loop. And while her beloved husband now knew what the sharp side of her tongue sounded like, she would have normally never _dared_ to let anyone else hear it. 

“What is going on in here?” she asked Hohenheim before turning to Roy. “I thought you were leaving?”

“I am,” the teen replied hastily. “I’m sorry… um… goodnight.”

He excused himself and stepped past her, out of the kitchen. She watched him as he headed toward the living room door with his head down. Since the boys were upstairs, he was able to leave quickly and quietly. Trisha felt a small tug on her heart as she saw him open the door again and lock it from the inside like she had always asked him to do as he left. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked, turning back to her husband. “Did that make you feel good? He’s just a kid.”

“A _gay_ kid.”

_“Who cares?!”_  

Trisha paused and tried to calm her tightly clenched muscles and raging nerves. She made an effort to lower her voice as she spoke again; even though the boys were not likely to hear them, she didn’t want to chance it. 

“Hohenheim. Roy is the best thing that has happened to those boys in a long time.  I don’t give a damn if he’s gay.”

Hohenheim got up and poured himself a cup of coffee. “If he’s so great then why is Edward still getting in trouble for disrupting his class?”

Trisha let out a stunned snort of laughter. “Are you serious? I don’t know if you’ve noticed it or not, but our son has a couple of issues that make him the center of every joke, every taunt, every… _fucked up thing_ that kids can think to do these days. So what if he uses the ‘gee dee’ word every now and then because he can’t take it anymore? You know what? I don’t care about _that_ , either.”

She was surprised see that this actually seemed to get through to him by way of his pained expression. Not that it made up for his years of absence, not in the least. But it did ease her heart somewhat to know that the man did still seem to care about their son.

“I understand what you’re saying. I do. And that was off base of me to say. There isn’t a ‘magic cure all’ for what Ed has to go through--”

_“Thank you.”_

“But Trisha, I can’t condone this… _boy_ … being around our children. Touching them… influencing them… Now, I’m not saying that he’s doing it on _purpose,_ but… children are impressionable. They can see a behavior and think it’s perfectly alright to imitate it when it’s not.” Hohenheim reached into his pocket and pulled out a container of pipe tobacco. “You are fully justified to have your issues with me, and sweetheart, I will bear that. I deserve that. But they are still my children. I still have a say in this. And I _do not_ want this Roy around them.”

Trisha walked over to the table and placed her hands upon it, leaning down for a good look into the eyes that had captivated her so long ago. “Our children will be whomever they are meant to be. And Hohenheim, if you can’t accept that… if, for _whatever_ reason, they don’t live up to your ideal, then you need to cut them loose now, before you hurt them any more than you already have.” 

She stood upright and started walking away. 

“By the way,” she added, stopping at the door. “I’ve decided to rehire Roy. If you don’t like it…” 

She turned around and met his eyes again, this time with a proud and defiant gaze that was eerily similar to one often present on the face of her firstborn son.

“… you’re free to leave.”

*****

“You’ve been out here burning for hours, man. Hey.... Roy?”

Maes looked into his best friend’s face and immediately felt like kicking someone’s ass. He pried the now half-empty bottle of Glenlivet out of his hands and knelt down in front of his chair, carefully positioning his feet away from the fire.

“What's wrong?”

“Maes.” The teen had not yet reached the point of total incomprehension, but he was damn close. “Am I a pervert? Cuz all us faggots are perverts, y’know.”

Maes frowned and shook his head. “Roy, you’re the most _un_ perverted person I know. Who said you were?”

Roy closed his eyes and swayed in his chair. “Don’t matter.”

“Well, whoever said it is a fucking clueless asshole. Come on. Let’s go back inside.” 

Maes stood up and grabbed Roy by the hands. He pulled the drunk teen to his feet but when he tried to let go, Roy only gripped him tighter. 

“You gotta let me go so we can walk, okay?” he said, trying to pull his hands away. “Roy, are you listening?”

“Fuck me.”

Maes' mouth fell open.  His arms went slack; the only thing now holding them up was Roy's death grip on his hands.  

“…Wh-What did you say?” 

Roy let go of Maes and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Fuck me,” he slurred into his ear. “You wanna do it so bad, then do it.”

He punctuated his drunken request by latching onto Maes’ neck and grinding against him. Blindsided by the pleasure, Maes closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. This was what he had _so desperately_ wanted, and now it was finally happening. He let his hands drop to Roy’s thrusting hips… and… pushed him away, ignoring the cry of his self-imposed denial.

“You..."  He swallowed hard and tried again.  "Stop acting like some drunk slut.” His voice trembled along with his aching body.  He yanked off his glasses and flashed Roy a green-eyed glare. “Now get your ass in that house or the only thing that’ll be up it is _my foot_.” 

Maes stood back and waited for Roy to leave. He finally did, tripping and stumbling along the way back until Maes offered a reluctant arm for him to hold. He helped Roy into his bedroom and removed his clothes. Once in bed, Maes propped Roy onto his side on the off-chance that he would have to vomit during the night. When he was fairly certain that Roy wouldn’t roll onto his back, he retreated to his own bedroom and proceeded to jerk off three consecutive times while Roy’s lusty “fuck me” slur played in his head over and over.

The good news was that he could rest his conscious knowing that he had done the right thing by not taking advantage of the situation, as much as he had wanted to.  _God,_ had he wanted to.

And therein laid the bad news. Now, Maes wanted Roy even more. 

_A lot_ more.


	8. Chapter 8

Trisha couldn't sleep.  She hadn’t had a decent night’s rest at all since _he_ came back.

She looked down at the dark outline of her husband as he slept on the air mattress beside the bed, fighting an almost overwhelming urge to kick him. At first, she had reluctantly agreed to let him sleep in the same room for the sake of the boys; all of her plans for some semblance of normal family life would have been ruined the moment Ed or Al caught their father sleeping on the couch. But now, the more she looked at the shell of the man she once loved more than life itself, the more she found herself wishing horrible things upon him. She hated the effect his presence had on her--on _all_ of them. The boys were miserable and she was angry.  _Extremely_ angry. All day, every day, since his return.  

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Where was the perfect, harmonious family that she had always thought having her husband home would bring?

And then there was Roy. Trisha clenched her teeth in anger as she relived her fury over Hohenheim’s sickening accusations. It was a maternal thing, she supposed, considering how much she had grown to adore the teenager in such a short period of time. Maybe not as much as the boys did--especially Ed--but still enough not to let anyone, including her worthless excuse of a husband, hurt him in any way. 

So what, _exactly_ , was she holding onto? Although she had given him the option of staying or going, the most important question still remained unanswered:

Did she even _want_ him there anymore?

She glared down at the snoring, shapeless heap and shook her head in dismay. After a moment of careful consideration, confirming the things that she already knew in her heart to be true, she reached out and nudged him with her foot…  a tad bit _harder_ than necessary.

_“Hohenheim.”_

Hohenheim woke with a start and sat up on the mattress.

“Huh? Trisha?” He rubbed at his eyes and blinked in the darkness. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Trisha turned on the bedside lamp, taking no particular sympathy in the way he shielded his eyes from the offensive light that filled the room. Although she could have left it go, she wanted to see his face when she said what she had to say.

More so, she wanted him to see _hers._  

After everything that had happened, she deserved at least that much.

“We need to talk.”

*****

With a painful moan, Roy stumbled into the kitchen. The smell of an actual home cooked breakfast filled the air, causing his stomach to simultaneously growl with hunger and roll with nausea. The hunger was winning, at least for now.

He trudged over to the table and sat down, wanting to give his aching head a moment before moving any further. He wasn’t hungover, not precisely. But he certainly wasn’t at his best after downing almost an entire bottle of overpriced hooch. He rested his head on the cool surface of the table and moaned again.

“You sound like a zombie.”

Roy reluctantly raised his head and gazed at Maes’ cool expression.

“You _look_ like a zombie, too,” the teen added curtly, walking over to a cabinet and noisily fishing out a plate.

Roy let his eyes fall down the length of Maes’ long, muscular body, which was covered with a light sheen of sweat from his morning run. It was little wonder everyone threw themselves at him--

_Fuck me._

Roy blushed in embarrassment over the memory of his words and quickly whipped his head away, much to the torment of his throbbing head, wishing he could have been drunk enough to forget his hornball theatrics.  For all of his talk, all of his insistence that he didn’t want to have sex with his best friend, Roy was horrified that he had so casually thrown himself at Maes, prepared to do just that. It was little wonder he was pissed; he had every right to be.

“Here.” The disgruntled teen practically threw the plate of food at Roy before grabbing a fork and tossing it in his general direction.

“Maes.”

Maes paused in front of the open refrigerator, tapping his fingers against the door and waiting for Roy to continue.

“I’m sorry.” Roy frowned and looked down at his plate. “I fucked up. I didn’t mean to--”

“Act like a cocktease?” Maes yanked a carton of orange juice from the fridge and closed it. “Beg me to fuck you? Damn near give me a hickey? _Dry hump_ me? What exactly didn’t you _mean to do_ , Roy?”

Wincing against the brutality of his words, Roy pushed the plate away in exasperation and stood up. "I said I'm fucking sorry.  I don't know what else you want me to say."

Maes looked across the room at Roy’s downtrodden face and sighed softly in surrender. “Sit.”

Roy reluctantly took a seat.  “I’m not a dog,” he muttered stubbornly.

A small, wry smirk grew on Maes’ lips and just like that, it was over. The worst of it, anyway. He grabbed a glass and joined him at the table, pouring juice for Roy and drinking the rest of it straight from the carton.

“I always _was_ a sucker for your pouting,” he said, taking a large gulp.

“I am not pouting.” Roy picked up his fork and began eating, hoping that his chewing would conceal his smile of relief. This was the way it had always been between them, with potentially catastrophic events being reduced to nothing in the blink of an eye for the sake of their friendship. From the fallout over Maes and Riza’s drunken night of sex to the one time when Roy and Maes had… done what they had done, the two friends almost never let more than a day pass before making up and moving on. Roy didn’t think it was possible to ever have that sort of relationship with anyone else, nor did he really want to. 

“Okay, spill,” Maes said, plopping a home fry into this mouth. “What happened last night?”

Roy took a sip of juice. “The kids… their… _‘father’_ … basically accused me of being a fucking child molester.  You know, because any guy who likes guys is automatically a pervert.” He tapped the fork against the plate as he replayed the conversation with Hohenheim in his head and felt fresh anger rising in his chest.

“Well, fuck _him._ Do I need to go pay him a visit?”

“No. _No_.” Roy repeated himself because he knew all too well that it was not a question Maes was asking in jest. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I know what I am and I know what I’m not.  It still just fucking _sucks_ to come across assholes who say that kind of shit to my face, you know?”

“Well, at least you won’t have to deal with that bullshit anymore,” Maes said, helping himself to a slice of bacon. “Is Jean gonna hook you up with something at his work?”

“I don’t know,” Roy said, stabbing at an egg yolk. “And I do sort of have to… go back there today.”

Maes stopped chewing. “Why?”

“Because I…” Roy caught himself smiling at the thought of Ed’s petulant face and shook his head. “It’s stupid. It’s just that I was asked to take something over there.”

“Can’t someone else do it?”

“Apparently not,” Roy said with a grin. He pushed his plate toward Maes and stood up. “Thanks for breakfast. Hey, where the hell are your parents, anyway?”

Maes shrugged. “Out doing whatever it is that they do.”

As Roy headed toward the kitchen door, Maes glanced up at his retreating back.

“Roy.”

Roy stopped and turned around. “Hm?”

He was taken aback by the sound of Maes'  voice, which was full of uncharacteristic doubt and hesitation.

“Listen… you might want to, I don’t know, think of a better way to handle that kind of shit if it happens again because I don’t think I have it in me to say no next time.”

Roy nodded slowly.  "Alright." 

He took a breath as if he had more to say; there was definitely more he _wanted_ to say, but in the end, he simply walked out of the kitchen. Maes listened to his retreating steps until he could no longer hear them. Then he closed his eyes tightly.

He did not open them again for quite some time.

*****

Jean peered at the woman poking around in the mailbox as he pulled up to the Elric’s driveway. Because he was a typical teenaged boy, his eyes naturally checked out her form and he liked what he saw.

“Is that their mom?” he asked, gnawing on the filter of a cigarette as he ogled her.

“Yeah.” Then, noticing his friend’s hormonally-inspired observation, Roy gave him a solid punch in the arm. “Put your goddamn eyes back in your head.”

“Dude, she’s _hot._ A little homely, but still a definite MILF,” Jean replied, tearing his eyes away as he parked his car.

“Jean!”

“What?” he asked innocently. “Just because _you’re_ into cock doesn’t mean _I_ can’t look.”

Before Roy could respond, Trisha turned around and smiled sweetly at the two of them. He let down the window so that they could hear her.

“Hello boys.”

“Hi, Mrs. Elric,” Roy said. He really didn’t care to introduce Jean, who was still gaping at her like an idiot, but manners were manners. “This is my friend and chauffeur, Jean Havoc.”

Trisha leaned into Roy’s window and beamed at him. “Hello, Jean. It’s nice to meet--oh. You smoke?”

“Uh…” Roy was at a loss. He didn’t even think about the fact that the underage teen had a cigarette hanging from his mouth. As usual.

Jean quickly pitched the cigarette into the car’s ashtray as he stumbled for an answer. “Um. No. Well. I mean… not… alot. Just… sometimes… um--”

Trisha’s melodic laughter filled the car. “Settle down, boys. I don’t care. Actually, I was kind of hoping that you wouldn’t mind letting an old lady bum one?” She looked at their shared expression of astonishment with a twinkle in her eyes. “If that’s okay with you,” she added.

“N-No… no… no problem.” Jean reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered pack of cigarettes. “Help yourself.”

Trisha took a smoke from the pack and handed it back to him. With a smile, of course.

“Thank you very much, Jean.”

“Y-You’re welcome.”

She turned to Roy, who was staring at her as if she had sprouted horns. “The boys have been bugging me to take them  to the park,” she said, reaching out and playfully ruffling his hair. Would you like to come with us?”

“Is that okay?” Roy asked, glancing toward the house.

“ _Yes_. It’s okay,” she insisted, understanding the reason behind his concern. “I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t.”

“Then, yeah. Sure.”

“Good. Jean, would you also like--?”

“ _Yes!”_

“… Okay,” Trisha said, grinning as she stood back from the car. “I’ll go grab the boys.”

She headed up the driveway, leaving the two flabbergasted teens to stare after her.

“Man. I would babysit for her in a fucking heartbeat.” Jean rested his head on the steering wheel and watched Trisha with a dopey, dreamy gaze.

“I don’t think you could handle it,” Roy said, leaning forward to block his view.

“Says you,” Jean replied, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

“I’m telling you, man. You couldn’t do it.”

“They’re just two kids,” he insisted, dragging deeply. “And one of them’s an angel, you said so yourself. How hard could it _really_ be?”

*****

“ _ROY!!!!! HELP MEEEE-OWWWW!!!  SONUVA-!!”_

While Ed and Al discovered a thrilling new game in which the object was repeatedly dive-bombing onto the most vulnerable parts of Jean’s body, Roy and Trisha each sat in a swing, facing away from the mayhem so that she could smoke her borrowed cigarette in obscurity.

“I think my children are killing your friend,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the ruckus.

“Nah, he’s fine,” Roy said, waving off the screams of pain and anguish.

Ed and Al’s tickled cries of joy filled the air, almost drowning out the defenseless teen’s pleas for help. Roy turned to look at the commotion and caught a glimpse of Ed’s smiling face. It really _was_ … beautiful.

“He adores you, you know.”

Roy smiled and shook his head, although he was elated to hear it. “He adores _tormenting_ me.”

“That too.” Trisha took a long drag from the cigarette. She closed her eyes and savored the blessed nicotine rush before exhaling slowly. “But you really _are_ the first person besides me or Al who can get through that bull-headed skull of his.”

Roy blushed and looked down at the ground. Although he was infinitely flattered, it was still a little weird for him to hear such praise.  “H-He’s a good kid. They _both_ are.” He kicked at the dirt beneath his feet. “I think it’s really shitty that more people don’t know that.” 

He'd spoken from his heart without thinking and hadn't meant to swear, especially after repeatedly lecturing Ed on the perils of cursing in front of mothers. But somehow, he didn’t think she would mind.

And she didn’t.

Instead, Trisha nodded in agreement, completely unfazed by his choice of words. “It is.  _Very_ shitty.”

She covered her mouth and grinned at the teen, who was presently too stunned to appreciate the adorableness of the gesture. “I’m sorry, Roy.” She took a final drag of the cigarette before tossing it on the ground and putting it out with her foot. “You’re going to discover that I’m not all flowers and sunshine... at least not all the time,” she added with a wink.

“ _Get ‘im, Al!”_

“ _AAAAACK!”_

“So,” Trisha continued, talking over the noise. “I don’t suppose you want your job back, do you? As it stands, I don’t think my son is going to let you go a day without bringing that Optimus over to the house anyway.”

Roy couldn’t have been happier to be asked… with one, small exception.

“I’d love to, but I don’t really think I could with...”

“I’m going back to work on Monday… and Hohenheim won’t be there.” She sighed softly and began swinging slowly. 

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t, of course. But he imagined it was the thing to say in situations like this.

“Don’t be. I don’t think I am.” She looked at him with a tired smile. “How about it?”

“Yeah.  Okay.”

“Good.” Trisha stopped swinging and stood up. “Now, I really think we ought to rescue your friend before they do permanent damage.”

“ _HEY, KID! WATCH WHERE YOU’RE KICK--ARRRGH!!!”_

Roy smirked. He knew that scream all too well.

“Too late.”

*****

Hohenheim sat in the living room of the home that he no longer recognized as his own, smoking his pipe and staring into the open space, his eyes blindly fixed on nothing. He wasn’t surprised at all by Trisha’s request, although he hadn’t expected it to come so _soon_.

Then again, that the woman had let him stay at all was a miracle. But it came down to a matter of conditioning. Women like his wife, well… like his wife _used_ to be… they usually put up with damn near anything for the sake of their families, as any good woman should. Had Trisha not had this sudden change of heart, if her will had been just a little bit more broken, Hohenheim was convinced that he could have stayed gone for another five years and still returned home to the open arms of the sweet, docile wife he had left behind with no questions asked.

“Oh well,” he said to himself. What was done was done. She hadn’t asked him for a divorce, so that was something. Perhaps he had enough of the old Elric charm left in him to win her back. Only time would tell.

In the meantime, he would shift his focus onto other things, such as being a father to his two sons and protecting them from the deviant influence that his naïve wife failed to see, an influence that was already beginning to claim his firstborn, much to Hohenheim’s horror.

The sound of slamming doors and boisterous children broke through his thoughts. He got up and eased over to the window, peeking out to see Trisha and the boys bidding Roy and his so-called friend farewell. Hohenheim cringed in disgust as he saw Al jump into Roy’s arms and hug him tightly.  The boy was entirely too clingy; they would definitely have to work on that.  He watched as Roy then got on his knees and spoke to Ed. He supposed he should have gotten some measure of satisfaction when the eight-year-old reached out and flicked him on the nose with his tiny, yet strong automail fingers, but he didn’t. It actually made him angrier, somehow.

He stormed away from the window and up the stairs, repulsed by all of it. Then, as the stomach-churning vision of Ed’s glowing, lovestruck face hit him anew, he knew he had to do something. Marriage or no marriage, there was no way in the world he was going to stand idly by and watch either of his boys fall victim to something so abominable.

Indeed, no son of Hohenheim would ever become one of _them_.

_Ever._

*****

“So what exactly happened between you and Roy?” Riza asked. She upended a bottle of beer and drank deeply, polishing it off in no time.

“I already told you.” Maes dutifully handed her another one and took a sip of his.

“I’m not talking about last night and you know it,” she said, twisting off the cap and giving him a suspicious look. “And don't bother trying to deny it.  It's like the worst-kept secret ever."

"Besides your natural hair color," Maes shot back, earning him a punch.

"Come on, Hughes.  I'll beat it out of you if I have to."

Maes shifted in his seat and remained silent, tapping his bottle against the arm of the chair.  Riza decided to take the initiative.

“Did you fuck him?”

“No.”

“Did he fuck _you_?”

“Riza…”

“Blow job?”

“You offering?” Maes took a drink and stifled a belch.

Riza face contorted in irritation. “You’re an asshole. Come _on,_ just fucking tell me already. You told me about last night.”

“That was different.” The teen leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his black hair.

In a rare gesture of selflessness, at least as far as Maes was concerned, Riza decided to _momentarily_ forego any smartassed replies when she saw the true depth of his frustration.  She had never seen him so distraught over anyone before, something that both worried and intrigued her.

“… Do you love him?” she asked.

Maes was quiet for a long time. So long that Riza assumed he wasn't going to answer. But as she opened her mouth to change the subject, he shocked her by doing just that.

“As a friend? Absolutely. But like _that_ … I don’t know.” He stared down into his bottle with a forlorn expression. “Sometimes I think I do. Other times, I just wanna fuck him so badly that I can’t even _walk_ straight, let alone think straight.  I don't know if it's because he keeps turning me down or what... I just... I don’t know.”

Riza nodded solemnly. “Well it's probably for the best.  I'm sure the last thing you want is to come up _short_ with your best friend,” she said.

The two teens stared at each other… until Maes cracked first. 

“You are such a bitch,” he said with a smile.

“I know,” Riza proudly agreed. “Wanna play Halo?”

“Sure," he said, standing up.  "Oh, and you _were_ kidding just now, right?  Because if I remember correctly, you were too busy screaming my name to complain about anything-- _Ow!_ ”

*****

“Edward?”

Ed looked up from his desk, where he was concentrating on putting a large, five-hundred-piece puzzle together for Al, who had absolutely no luck whatsoever with those things. He glared at Hohenheim without saying a word and resumed his work. Since his mother was getting Al ready for bed, he supposed he would have to suffer the man until she was done.

“I just wanted to know if you had any questions about the situation between your mother and me,” Hohenheim explained, cautiously entering the room.

“You’re movin’ out,” Ed said with a shrug of the shoulders. No further explanation was needed. And honestly, he couldn’t have been happier about it.

“Yes. We thought that it was for the best. For now, anyway.” Hohenheim approached the desk and peered over his son’s shoulder. He felt a swelling sense of hubris over the boy’s apparent genius. Like father, like son. “You’ll still get to see me, though, once I get settled somewhere else.”

Ed shrugged again. “Guess I  _have_ to.”

Hohenheim recoiled at his words. Obviously, he had suspected the child felt that way, but it was still rather hard for him to hear. “Well… yes. Probably on weekends and if there are ever any times when your mother won’t be home.”

“Then Roy'll stay with us,” Ed informed him.

Hohenheim walked over to the small bed and sat down. 

“… I suppose he might,” he said, staring at the back of Ed’s head. “That is… if he’s not in _jail_.”

Losing all interest in the puzzle, Ed quickly turned around and glowered at his father.

“What are you talkin’ about? He’s not goin' to jail.”

Hohenheim removed his glasses and looked into his son's golden eyes, where he saw the fear lurking just beneath the contempt.  It was enough to give him pause… but not enough to stop him.

He was doing this for _Ed’s_ sake, after all.

“Well, you see, Edward… that actually depends on _you_.” 


	9. Chapter 9

_Well, you see, Edward…_

Ed frowned as the sound of his father’s cold, calculating voice resounded in his frazzled mind, filling him with doubt and skepticism over everything he had ever believed to be right and true. He hunkered down in the darkness and squeezed his eyes shut as if that would somehow blight the man’s hateful words, regretting the fact that he didn’t punch or kick him when he started saying those mean things. Normally, he would have; he _was_ Edward Elric, after all. But Hohenheim’s ravings had so confused him right from the start that he had been too stunned to even think of assaulting him at the time. And now, he was afraid.

It was a weird kind of fear to the boy, one that wasn’t as simple as being afraid of the boogeyman that he had, until more recently than he cared to admit, fully believed resided under his bed. No, this fear was something else, something that would not go away with the dawning of light. Something deeper than that baby stuff, something… scarier. And he hated that man, that _stranger_ , for making him feel this way.

It was bad to hate. His mom had always said so. But Ed knew in his heart that he _did_ hate his father. He was a regular A-S-S hole for sure.

“… Asshole.”

He whispered the swear into the dark and immediately covered his face with his blanket, as if his mother would have somehow been able to sense that he had said it. It was hard to tell sometimes; she seemed to know just about everything he did before he even did it. Once he was certain that he was still in the clear, Ed poked out his head and breathed a sigh of relief.

But the fear, it was still there, still inside, gnawing away at him. And it hurt.   
  
It hurt _a lot._

He wasn’t a bad boy. … Well, he was. But not like that. Not bad enough to go to the place where bad people went when they died. Not that he even believed such a dreadful place existed, but if it did… well, he didn’t deserve to go there.

… Did he?

And Roy. Roy most certainly didn’t deserve what his father had said he deserved. No way, not ever. Even if his dad had said… those things. 

Those terrible, awful things.

Ed scrunched his face and shook his head violently in an attempt to undo the stinging in his eyes. He wasn’t a baby, he shouldn’t cry like one. 

But if anything should ever happen to Roy… because of _him_ …  
  
_... that actually depends on you._

Ed choked back his tears, but not before a small, shuddering whimper escaped him. He used his blanket to wipe his eyes and turned onto his side, curling into a ball and trying desperately to chase away the thoughts that plagued him, hoping, with a measure of faith and optimism that only small children could ever possess, that the fear and the hurt would be gone by morning.

*****

The cafeteria was abuzz with students taking solace from their classes by indulging in godawful food. Roy, Jean, Riza, and Sheska sat in a semi-secluded corner of the room, as far away from the masses as possible, enjoying the one time during the school day when they could all convene as a group.

“Do you guys want to do something tonight?” Sheska asked, using a spork to poke at the unidentifiable lump of… _something_ on her tray. 

“Can’t. Gotta work,” Jean answered, trying not to fidget. He was dying for a smoke but didn’t dare risk getting caught lighting up. Again. “Boss’ll have my ass if I call off one more time.”

“I’m ‘sitting this evening,” Roy added, frowning down at the slab of bread and cheese that was supposed to pass for pizza. “But after, sure.”

“How’s that going, anyway?” Riza asked. 

Roy shrugged and took a bite, trying to play off the smile that wanted to surface. Not that they wouldn’t understand his attachment to Ed and Al, but he didn’t really want to go into all of it with them just yet. “Okay,” he said.

“I hear those kids are really bad,” Sheska said, sneaking a French fry off Riza’s tray. “Right, Jean?”

Roy glanced up at Jean and waited for him to reply, unaware until that moment just how prepared he was to lash out at anyone, friend or foe, who said something derogatory about the two boys. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say they’re _bad_ ,” Jean said, blissfully unaware that he had just saved himself from Roy’s wrath. “They’re just very… very… active.”

Riza grinned and smacked Sheska’s hand as it closed around another fry. “That’s because they actively kicked your ass.”

“Shut up,” Jean muttered, glowering at his friends for poking fun at his misfortune. “Especially you, Roy.”

Roy smirked. “Hey, I’m not saying I don’t have any room to talk, but yeah, they totally kicked your ass, man.”

A fresh round of laughter made its way across the table. Jean stood up in a huff and tried to glare at all of them, but the smile on his lips gave him away.  

“You know what? Fuck all of you,” he said, shaking his head as he grabbed his tray. “I need a cigarette.”

“We love you, Jean!” Sheska cried out between giggles.

“Kiss my ass,” Jean shot back. “See you guys--oh. Hey, Maes.”

Maes approached the table and greeted Jean with a punch in the arm. “Hey. Don’t get caught. Again.” He sat down as Jean walked away. “What’s going on?” 

Sheska pouted and spoke up. “I’m trying to get all of you bitches together so we can hang out tonight-- _ow!_ Dammit, Riza!--but that one has to work,” she said, motioning in the direction Jean had taken off before nodding at Roy. “And this one is babysitting.”

“How are you getting there if Jean’s gotta work?” Maes asked, immediately losing interest in Sheska’s plight.

“I’m walking over to the elementary school to meet them and catching a ride with their neighbor,” Roy explained. “Jean’ll pick me up tonight after he gets out of work.” 

“I’ll take you over there if you want,” Maes offered, opening a small carton of milk and sniffing it to ensure it was fit for human consumption.

Roy blinked at Maes’ insistent gaze. Even though they lived together, he had always hated imposing his vehicular needs on Maes, whereas Jean was always eager to drive him anywhere. 

“… Okay,” he said, seeing no real reason why he should refuse. 

He saw subtle movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to catch Riza’s gaze shifting between him and Maes like a spectator at a tennis match, her eyes full of curiosity and insinuation. Sighing inwardly at her fangirl gawking, Roy reached out with his foot and--

 _“OW!”_ Sheska screamed, almost jumping out of her seat. “Who _the hell_ just kicked me?!”

Oops.

*****

“Jesus Christ, Roy. There’s like a million goddamn kids here.”

Maes’ green eyes scanned the swelling, screaming throng of just-released children. He nudged himself closer to his best friend and tried to take all of it in. 

“It _is_ an elementary school,” Roy said, neglecting to mention his own horror over the sea of insanity the last time he had gone there. “Just don’t move or make eye contact. They can sense fear.”

“Very funny,” Maes said, smiling anyway. “So how the hell can you tell where your two are?”

“If we stand here long enough, they’ll find us,” Roy informed him. “Trust me; it’s just easier that way.”

Sure enough, as the crowd started to wane, Al came running, his face full of shock and joy. Ed lurched behind him, dragging his backpack along the ground and kicking at the air with each step, looking as pissy as usual. Roy smiled warmly at the sight of him, marveling at how his reaction was a far cry from the apprehension he used to feel when faced with that adorable scowl.

“Roy!” Al held out his arms and Roy gladly picked him up and hugged him tightly. He saw Maes grinning at his open affection for the boy and discreetly flipped him off behind Al’s back. 

“I thought Miss Pee-nako was picking us up?” the boy asked.

Roy shook his head with mock regret. “Nope. You’re stuck with me. I’m sorry.”

Al giggled with delight and patted him on the head. “’Sokay.” He noticed Maes standing there and leaned into Roy’s ear. “Who’s that?” he whispered rather loudly, the concept of discretion lost on him at such an innocent young age.

Roy and Maes exchanged an amused glance over Al’s concept of secrecy. “This is my friend Maes. Maes, this is Al.”

“Hello!” Al said with a chipper grin. 

“Hi Al,” Maes said, smiling against his will and finding himself reluctantly smitten by the lively child.

“And…” Roy began, looking for Ed to introduce him. He found him standing near the spot he had originally seen him, staring at the three of them with a strange, confused, and ultimately unhappy look on his face. His curious amber eyes seem particularly interested in Maes, which unnerved the otherwise confident teen to no end. Although he was a pro at making girls swoon, winning over little kids seemed to be a tad bit trickier.

“Come on over, Ed,” Roy called out, hoping to put his hesitation to rest.   

“I don’t think he likes me,” Maes muttered under his breath.

Roy patted him on the shoulder with what he hoped was a reassuring hand. “Don’t worry--”

_Please God don’t let Ed kill him._

“--he’ll like you just fine.”

*****

Roy was touching that guy.

 _Why_ was Roy touching that guy?

_STOP TOUCHING THAT GUY!!_

Ed tried to keep a straight face--his version of such being an angry, stubborn scowl--as he approached them. He planted himself next to Roy and regarded the strange, green-eyed intrusion with grim determination. 

“Ed, this is Maes. He’s going to take us to the house,” Roy explained.

Maes tried his best to turn on the charm. “Hello-”

“Mom said I’m not supposed to ride with strangers,” Ed loudly informed them, crossing his arms and turning his head away. 

“He’s not a stranger, he’s Roy’s friend!” Al pointed out, with all a child’s unassuming logic.

Ed could feel Roy’s eyes on him, questioning him, trying to determine what might be going on inside of his head that had prompted such a knee-jerk reaction to his friend. Ed looked down at the ground to avoid making eye contact with him. He didn’t want anyone, particularly Roy, trying to pry into the militant maze of his mind--especially since he had a hard enough time trying to figure it all out for himself. 

But he hated the weight of that stare most of all because he actually _liked_ it.

“Come on, Ed,” Roy said with a calm, even tone so as to avoid a conflict if at all possible. “Miss Pinako already left and I’m pretty sure you don’t want to walk all the way home.” 

Not that he wouldn’t try if he had it in mind to do so. Ed would have gladly proven him wrong by doing just that if not for the fact that Roy and this… this _guy_ would have been left alone together. And that was something he did not want. He couldn’t make sense of it for the life of him; he hadn’t had nearly the same amount of reservation when that Jean guy had been around, the same amount of…

Jealousy? Was _that_ it?

Roy and this four-eyed jerkface… were they--?

“Ed?”

Roy’s voice cut into Ed’s thoughts before he could piece together the mystery. He finally turned and looked up at the teen’s face and all at once felt guilty for the worry and concern he saw there. Which, naturally, only made him madder at Maes.

Stupid Maes with his stupid glasses and his stupid cowlick--

_Copycat!_

\--and his stupid… _tall_ ness. 

“Fine.” Ed sighed and reluctantly prepared to follow them to Maes’ stupid car, debating whether or not he should demand that Roy sit in the backseat with him and Al. 

“Thank you,” Roy said, smiling humbly. 

“Hmph.” 

Roy stared at him for another lingering moment before nodding slightly in acquiescence and walking away with Al in tow. Only then did Ed’s face relent, watching the two of them with a soft, serene expression. 

“After you,” Maes offered, extending his hand.

The serenity didn’t last very long. Ed narrowed his eyes and gave Maes a defiant glare. He tightened his grip on this backpack--as opposed to other things he would rather have been doing with his hands at the moment--and walked away from him without saying a word. He would accept having to ride in this guy’s F-ing car for Roy’s sake but he didn’t have to like it.

Or _him._

*****

The evening had progressed smoothly, with no bumps or bruises of any kind. Although he skulked around the house as per the norm, Ed was eerily well-behaved tonight, eating his dinner, taking his calcium supplements, _everything_ , done without the complaint. And that worried Roy.

While he and Al sat in the living room, hovering over a book while the child read it to him at a snail’s painfully slow pace, Roy wondered if he should try to approach Ed when he was done. Perhaps something had happened at school that day, something to cause such a strange, almost unbearable silence in the boy. Roy could only imagine the hell that the poor kid had to endure on a daily basis because of his stature and his automail, and he secretly wished that he could be eight again, just long enough to kick a few snot-nosed asses and put a stop to Ed’s torment once and for all. 

He could hear him stomping about upstairs in his room, not out of anger but as a result of the natural weight and stride of the metal attached to his thigh and he realized for the first time just how strong the kid must have been having to permanently lug that stuff around. He found his mind wandering to a time when--and if--Ed would grow, and tried to picture an older and perhaps less brattier teenager wearing the automail. He sincerely hoped that Ed would have an easier go in high school; true, some kids would always be assholes, but with any luck, the teasing would be gone, passed over for more important things… or new targets.

“Good job, Al,” he said, ruffling the child’s hair as praise. “You’re a really smart boy,” he added. It sounded kind of corny, he supposed, but upon seeing the way Al beamed joyously, he didn’t mind it at all. 

It was yet _another_ reason their worthless shit of a ‘father’ deserved a good ass-beating. 

“Thanks, Roy,” Al replied with a measure of gratitude that touched Roy’s heart. Deep down, he was fully aware that he was, in some way, becoming the father figure to Al that Hohenheim would never be. And although the thought of such a responsibility might have terrified any other sixteen-year-old, Roy found that he didn’t mind one bit. Maybe it was because of his own parentless upbringing; he didn’t know and, quite frankly, he didn’t really care. 

But as for Ed…

*****

Ed frowned at the battalion of Transformers spread out across the top of his bed, his sharp eyes scanning the masses for the elusive Bumblebee. Elusive, because it was the one that Al coveted and “borrowed” most of all. 

Not that he cared. Well, he did because they were _his_ toys. But it wasn’t as if he forbade Al to touch any of them except for Optimus. Optimus was off-limits to everyone. Well, he _had_ been, until Roy.

Ed let out a gust of breath and walked over to his closet, pretending to search for his missing Transformer, pretending to actually give a damn whether or not Al had it, and pretending not to care that Roy was downstairs with him right now. Because he didn’t care.

He didn’t care one bit.

Nope.

Not at all.

Because if he cared, then that would mean… that would mean that his father was right and he really was a...

_It’s not normal, Edward. And you want to be normal, don’t you, son?_

Ed raised both of his hands to his face and stared at them. The fears that had terrorized him the night before were still there, still lurking, waiting to resurface once again. But right now, another want, another _need_ dominated his thoughts, one he knew very, very well. 

Yes. He wanted to be normal. More than anything. To be free from the torment and the laughter and the pointing fingers and the shame and the revulsion and the almost unbearable damnation of it all. Perhaps he couldn’t do anything about his automail. But if there was a way he could stop feeling the way that he felt about him… then maybe…

He didn’t want anything bad to happen to Roy. But he also didn’t _want_ to not want anything bad to happen to him. He didn’t want to think about him and he didn’t want to be so gee dee… so _goddamn_ happy to see him. 

Ed let his hands drop to his sides, ever so mindful of the difference in the weight between them, exhausted from trying to make heads or tails of all of it. He didn’t want to think about it anymore--there would be plenty of time for that later, in bed, when his thoughts would consist of nothing but. 

But for now, he decided a little distraction was in order.

*****

_“AL!!!”_

Roy and Al looked up at the ceiling, each of them with a cannoli hanging out of their mouths as they had been racing to see who could suck out the filling the fastest. Terror dawned on Al’s face and Roy found himself annoyed at the culprit for inspiring such a reaction in the boy… although he was also somewhat curious to see what on earth Al could have possibly done to cause Ed to yell out for him in such a way, considering how inseparable they were. The thundering footfalls of a ticked-off eight-year-old sounded across the ceiling; he was definitely stomping his feet now. 

He stomped his way down the stairs and over to the two of them, glaring at the pastries in their mouths.

“You ate ‘em all?”

“No,” Roy said, casually picking up the box beside him and showing him the ones that remained... and deciding not to inform him what the filling actually consisted of. 

“… Oh.” 

He briefly met Roy’s eyes before turning away and the teen could have sworn he saw… something…

“Where’s Bumblebee, Al?” Ed demanded, folding his arms.

Al removed the cannoli from his mouth and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “H-He’s in my room.”

“Stop taking my stuff outta my room!”

“I’m sorry.”

Roy was impressed. Unlike a lot of kids his age--or even Roy’s age, for that matter--Al didn’t hem and haw, looking for a suitable excuse to justify his actions. He quickly assumed responsibility for what he did and apologized… most likely until it happened again. 

Ed opened his mouth and then closed it with a snap, as if he hadn’t expected his brother to cave so soon. “W-Well… just… keep your stupid hands off him next time.”

“My hands aren’t stupid!” Al said, genuinely offended. 

“Must be, if you keep stealing my Bumblebee,” Ed pointed out.

“But you don’t even like him!” Al said, quite possibly on the verge of tears.

And with that, Roy decided it was about time to step in. “Alright Ed--”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ed said stubbornly. “ _He’s mine_. I can flush him down the toilet if I want. Stupid Hands.”

 _“That’s enough,_ Ed _.”_

*****

He hadn’t meant for it to go this far. 

And it wouldn’t have, if Al would have just let him call his stupid hands stupid and be done with it. But no, he had to argue back. Ed _hated_ when Al argued back. Because more than being right or wrong, Ed wanted the last word most of all. Even though he always apologized in the end for being such a brat, at least he had that small consolation to soothe him.

Roy stood up and frowned down at the both of them and Ed briefly considered pulling out the old “But he started it” card. It was futile, of course, given how Ed had practically brought down the house yelling at Al in the first place. Come to think of it, that excuse _never_ worked for Ed; perhaps it was about time he gave up trying. 

“There's no reason the two of you need to fight about it,” Roy said. 

Ed figured it was worth one last try. “But he--”

“ _No_ , Ed. We’re done talking about it.” 

 _We are?_  Ed despised being cut off. And, being Ed, he refused to let it go. Not even for Roy. 

“They’re my ffffffffffff… _fucking_ Transformers!” He stamped his automail foot on the floor for emphasis and waited for the fallout from the F-bomb.

But instead of the screams and wails of offended ears, he was met with silence. Although he took some small measure of satisfaction in the way Al’s eyes nearly bulged to the point of falling out, it wasn’t what he had been hoping for. 

Roy heaved a sigh and stared at him for what felt like a very long time. 

“Fine,” he finally said, speaking slowly and quietly. “Since they mean so much to you that you’re willing to yell and swear, I’ll make sure to bring Optimus back to you tomorrow.  I wouldn’t want _my_ ‘stupid hands’ all over something that means so much to you that it causes you to act this way.” 

_That’s not what I want…_

“Come on, Al.” Roy held out his hand and waited for Al to take it.

_Stop…_

Ed watched the two of them walking toward the kitchen, hand in hand, away from him, and felt the last of his grasp on self-control slipping away. All of his fear and anger and worry and doubt and self-loathing finally culminated in the worst possible way as he opened his mouth and let loose the one word he had been too terrified to say since his father had issued his subtle accusation, screaming it at the top of his lungs with all the might his tiny body could muster.  
  
The  _real_ F-bomb.  The one that was right up there with the N-word and all of those other horrible, awful words that only the worst kinds of people used.  
  
People like _him_ , apparently. 

Then, having done that, Edward Elric began to cry. And cry. And cry. Months, perhaps even years worth of tears barreling down on him, all at once. He turned around and ran out of the room and up the stairs, tripping over his own feet and falling down before pulling himself up and stumbling into his room, ignoring the terrified screams of his brother and collapsing onto the floor where his own bawling soon drowned them out and wishing that he didn’t have to hear them or anything else ever again.

*****

Roy stared blindly at the kitchen door, paralyzed by the piercing scream of a word that he never expected to hear from the mouth of a little boy he never expected to care about, overwhelmed by a hurt he never expected to feel.

Somewhere upstairs, all hell was breaking loose. And still, Roy couldn’t move.

He simply... _couldn’t._

*****

Hohenheim stood with Pinako in the front yard of her house, smoking a pipe and listening to the faint howling sound of distraught children.

 _His_ children.

So far she hadn’t heard it. It figured--she was an old lady whose hearing was not what it had once been. That, and she was too busy enjoying the fine tobacco that he had presented to her as a gift. The woman thought he was shit; he had no illusions to the contrary. But she had never been one to turn down the chance to smoke a pipe with him, even if she reamed him a new one while doing so, as she had just done.

He knew that he wasn’t a complete monster. Indeed, he felt remarkably guilty for the pain he surely must have caused Edward. However, it was a necessary pain, one that needed to be administered to steer the child towards the correct path. Faggots were an abomination, plain and simple. There was no grey area to be found, no maybes or perhapses or what-ifs. While he bore Roy no true ill will, he would stop at nothing on earth to protect his sons. Nothing at all.

Hohenheim had learned a great many thing about this young Roy Mustang over the past hour from Pinako, things that both disgusted and intrigued him. Truly, it seemed as if his wife could not possibly have picked a worse caretaker for their children. And so, if this particular turn of events did not sway Edward to release his deviant idealizations, Hohenheim had… a very _special_ backup plan. It was a bit of a last resort, but he was in no way above lowering himself for the sake of his children. 

Fire.

Sometimes, fires happened.

It would be a shame if…

He closed his eyes and puffed away on his pipe, praying that it would not come to that… but fully prepared to act if it did.  
  
Without hesitation.


	10. Chapter 10

“Ed. I’m coming in.”

Because he had fully expected to find the door locked, Roy was surprised when it turned easily in his grasp. Tightening his clutch on the box of tissues in his left hand, he opened the door and stepped into the bedroom, with only the dim light of a Voltron lamp to guide him. 

He found Ed sitting on the floor by the edge of his bed, his knees drawn up to his chin and his arms wrapped firmly around them. His face was a snotty, tear-stained mess and his breathing was the broken and erratic hitching of a child struggling desperately to maintain some semblance of control over his emotions.  And failing.

And in that instant, any grudge or ill-will that Roy had been determined to bear over his own hurt feelings vanished without a trace. His heart did not break so much as shatter at the sight of Ed and he offered an unspoken apology to the child for ever thinking that what he had done was of his own volition. 

No, something else was wrong here. And he feared that he knew exactly what that something… or rather, _someone_ might be.

Roy made his way across the room and took a seat on the floor beside him, keeping his eyes focused on Ed’s, which in turn, were focused on his folded arms. He pulled a tissue from the box before setting it down beside him.

“Lift up your head,” he said softly. 

Keeping his eyes averted, Ed did as he was told. A fresh tear fell from his left eye and Roy dabbed at it gingerly before attending to the rest of his face, giving great care to dry it as best he could. As he had suspected--and hoped--might happen, Ed closed his eyes and let out a shuddering sigh, leaning forward ever so slightly against Roy’s touch and gratefully accepting his silent forgiveness. 

When he was done, Roy placed the now damp tissue beside him and grabbed another one. “Here,” he said, holding it out to him. “Blow your nose.”

Ed obediently grabbed the tissue and blew his nose. Roy handed him another one and waited patiently for him to finish. For no particular reason, he raised his hand to Ed’s forehead and ran his fingers through the front of the boy’s blond hair, letting them twirl around his ever-present cowlick. He then pulled his hand away and placed it back in his lap when he felt Ed’s eyes finally fall upon him. Not that he thought Ed necessarily minded what he was doing, and _certainly_ not that he minded doing it, but still…

“Done?” he asked.

Ed nodded and rolled the soggy tissues into a ball before placing them on the ground beside the first one. “Where’s Al?” he whispered.

“He’s asleep on the couch,” Roy answered, touched that even now, in the midst of his own personal dilemma, Ed’s first concern was still his little brother. 

What he neglected to mention was that Al had literally bawled himself to sleep after Roy brought him downstairs, his angelic face contorted in fear and worry even in his slumber. But there was no point or purpose in mentioning such things. Surely the kid already had enough grief and guilt riding on his tiny shoulders.

“‘Kay.” Ed nodded again, visibly relieved at the news. He lowered his legs and crossed them, staring down at his wringing hands with a heavy frown. “… I… I… I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” Roy said. “I’m not mad at you.”

He caught the faint yet distinct sound of a soft moan and knew Ed was trying his damnedest not to cry again. “Should be,” he muttered.

“Why? Did you mean it?”

Roy thought that Ed’s gasp of shock would have been adorably comical if not so horrified. 

“No!” the eight-year-old emphatically insisted, appalled by the suggestion. 

“Well, there you go,” Roy concluded matter-of-factly. “Why would I be mad at you for something you didn’t mean to say?” 

Of course he _had_ been mad. After the hurt, he had been downright infuriated, so much so that it had taken him almost an hour after Al had finally fallen asleep to even bring himself to go to Ed’s room. 

But none of that seemed to matter anymore. 

“Ed... what you said…” Roy took a deep breath and started again. “Did someone call you that?”

Ed’s eyes quickly darted to the side and Roy suspected that he was not far off base. Maybe it hadn’t been an outright accusation, but it was strong enough to drive him to tears, which was unforgivable enough. 

It would have been too easy had it been some little bastard at his school. But then again, Roy believed that given all of the other names that they called him, that specific one was most likely on the lower rung of insults that would have affected him so deeply… at least when uttered by a bunch of kids. 

So who else would be so bold, so _cruel_ , as to question an eight-year-old’s sexuality to his face? 

_Are you a faggot, Roy?_

The same asshole who would question a sixteen-year-old’s sexuality to his face, complete with accusations of child molestation as well.

“Did someone call _me_ that?”

Ed’s face crumbled under the weight of the truth and his eyes filled with tears again. “He said… he said… he said--!”

_“Edward.”_

The sound of Roy’s voice seemed to snap him out of it. He gazed up at him with wide, wet, wondering eyes and somewhere, in the darkest corner of his heart, Roy wanted to burn Hohenheim alive.

“It’s alright,” he said, gently gripping Ed’s left shoulder and urging him on with a nod of his head. “ _It’s alright._  Just start from the beginning.”

*****

Maes supposed that some guys would consider his present situation a gift from the heavens. He, most certainly, did not.

He looked around at the roomful of girls, some of whom he’d been intimate with in one form or another, and glared at Riza. 

“I’m like the only sausage at a taco party,” he griped, polishing off his beer. “Am I the only guy you invited?”

Riza shrugged without empathy. “I’m not the one who did the inviting,” she reminded him, glancing at the culprit.

“MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAES-SEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!”

Unsurprisingly inebriated, Sheska helped herself to his lap and planted a large, bright red kiss on his cheek.

“I love you, man. I reeeeeeally, reeeeeeally love you,” she proclaimed, following up with a resounding belch. 

“Careful she doesn’t yark all over you,” Maria warned.

“That’s disgusting,” Marta added.

“I notgonna puuuuke,” Sheska promised, wavering unsteadily in Maes’ lap. 

“Maes?” Gracia asked, peering over Sheska’s shoulder. “Do you want another beer?”

Before he could answer, he caught sight of Riza making faces at him and chucked his empty bottle at her. 

“Watch it, asshole!”

“No thanks, Gracia” he said with a polite smile, trying to ignore her lovelorn gaze.

“Awwwwwwww, you two look soooooo cute together,” Sheska announced, pinching Maes’ cheeks between hiccups.

“Yeeeeah, I gotta go now.” He stood up abruptly and made only a half-hearted attempt to ease Sheska’s unceremonious landing on the hard floor. 

“ _OWWWWW_ my ass!”

“You haven’t even tried to get us all naked yet,” Maria said with clear disappointment in her voice.

Marta spoke up. “ _Who’s_ getting naked?”

Right on cue, Sheska’s bra whipped into the air and almost hit Maes in the face. How she managed to take it off so quickly without removing her shirt was an admirable feat, especially given her current level of coherency.

“Buck nekkid,” she whispered to no one in particular.

“Right.” Maes shook his head and grinned in spite of himself at Sheska’s drunken theatrics. “Make sure she gets home in one piece,” he said to Riza. “Now all of you are free to do whatever it is that you women do when guys aren't around.  Hire a stripper or whatever the fuck."

“You could always strip for us,” Maria offered.

“Yeah, come on,” Riza piped in with a smirk. “We could use a good laugh.”

Sheska burst into a fit of laughter, although in her present state it was hard to tell if she was even laughing at Riza’s comment or something in her own little drunken world. Either was plausible.

“You wish,” Maes said, stepping over his shit-faced friend and heading for the door.

“Mm, no. Actually, I don’t,” Riza shot back.

Maes thought about offering her the finger but, knowing Riza’s legendary snarkiness, he was certain that it would only invite a comparison to his penis. Which, of course, would be an under-exaggeration of obscene proportions. And so instead, he shook his head and bowed out gracefully, bidding them all a goodnight and ducking out of the door before Gracia could corner him. He hopped into his car and sped towards home, feeling anxious for reasons he could not begin to understand.

… Well, no. He fully understood _why_ he was anxious. It was all he ever felt anymore where Roy was concerned. Aside from horny, that was.

But what did it mean?

Maria was right. There was a time when Maes would not have spared a second thought to worming his way into the collective pants of a roomful of girls or simply stripping naked and let them run with the ball. Or balls, as it were. So what had changed? 

_… Do you love him?_

Maes tried to think of something, _anything_ else to divert the question from his mind. And what he came up with was:

_Buck nekkid._

That Sheska… How had he not managed to have sex with her after all this time? Oh, that’s right--he didn’t sleep with his friends. Except for the one he’d already slept with, and the one he currently _wanted_ to sleep with. And besides, she really was more like a sister to him than anything else. A kind of hot-librarian-with-nice-tits type of sister, but a sister nevertheless. 

He focused on the road ahead of him, wondering if her drunkenness had finally culminated into its usual climatic ending.

*****

“I swear to _God_ I’m never drinking again!” Sheska cried, leaning over the toilet.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Riza growled, holding her hair back. “Hurry up and puke already.”

*****

Diplomacy.

It was a word Roy had learned in Government class, one that he remembered rather well.

There were going to be situations in life which called for the utmost diplomacy--

“Your dad is a jackass.”

\--while others most certainly would not.

On some level, he wasn’t surprised by the things that Hohenheim had said. Not at all. But that he would say such things to his own child…

Ed had been terribly embarrassed to recount his father’s words and hadn’t looked at him the entire time, choosing instead to keep his eyes on his feet and frantically pick at a loose thread on the bottom of his shirt, which had become more and more unraveled as he’d spoken. Now that he was done, Roy leaned over and covered his hand to stop him. 

“Look at me.”

Ed slowly raised his head and met his eyes. Roy let go of him and rested his elbows on his thighs. His heart ached to see such a normally proud, stubborn, and endearingly pissy face reduced to such fear and fragility, and he realized that he would take the old Ed--kicking, swearing, and all--over this broken spirit any day.

“Sometimes…” he started, carefully considering his words. “Sometimes people… they’re afraid of things… of other people… who are different than them… and so, instead of trying to understand those differences, they… decide that they’ll hate them. It’s not really all that different from the kids who pick on you for having automail, when you think about it. Right?”

He could almost see Ed’s mind trying to piece it all together, wanting to believe.

“But I don’t wanna go to hell,” he whispered, as if saying it any louder would somehow invoke the Devil himself. 

Roy clenched his teeth and felt another surge of rage course through him. He couldn't have cared less what was said about him, but to willfully cause Ed this sort of mental anguish by threatening jail and hellfire was beyond unacceptable. This was not something an eight-year-old child should even have to think about.  _Ever._  To Roy, what Hohenheim had done was no different than any other type of child abuse and he wasn’t about to let him get away with it. 

But first…

“I don’t either,” Roy said, pushing his anger aside for the moment. “All I know, Ed, is that… there are things that we feel, things that we are, that are… just… a part of us. Like your hair or your eyes, they’re just… things you’re born with.  And I don’t think that any type of… God or… whatever you want to call it… would say that those things are bad. Even if _people_ say that He says so. People say a lot of stupid shit sometimes.” He pulled out his ace-in-the-hole. “Besides, if any of that was really true, don’t you think your mom would have told you so?”

Ed’s eyes lit up with cautious hopefulness and Roy smiled in relief. Even though he didn’t have one to speak of, he knew that a mother’s word tended to be gospel in the ears of a child. And Trisha was about as close to perfection as a mother could get--Hohenheim couldn’t begin to hold a candle to her. 

“ _There is_ _nothing wrong with you_ ,” he said, overcome with emotion that he could hardly even begin to fathom and blinking against the sudden stinging in his eyes. “Nothing at all. And if you ever start thinking that there is, I want you to come and tell me so I can knock some sense into you.”

For the first time since Hohenheim had warned him about his eternal damnation, Ed smiled. It truly was such a beautiful and lovely thing. Roy cleared his throat and rubbed at his eyes with both hands. When he lowered them, he found a tissue waiting for him. 

“You do that and I’ll kick you right in the woo-woo,” Ed promised him, climbing to his knees and wiping away at the teen’s eyes.

Roy chuckled as Ed tended to him. “You’d have to catch me first.” He hissed sharply as an automail finger flicked against his earlobe. “Brat.”

“Butthole.”

“Whole butt.”

Ed tossed the tissue aside and grinned happily. Roy climbed to his feet, purposely ruffling the boy’s hair in the process. “Okay, come on,” he said, extending his hand. “Let’s go check on Al.”

Roy felt the cool grasp of metal latch onto him as Ed pulled himself to his feet. And when that coolness was replaced with the warmth of the boy’s real hand, he gripped it tightly and led him out of the room and down the stairs, both of them still very much unaware that this defining moment would be the first of many between them over the years to come.

*****

Trisha Elric really _was_ about as perfect as mothers came. But as it turned out, she was also equally as frightening. 

“M-Mrs. Elric?” Roy didn’t think there was another human being alive who could still manage to come across so sweet while emanating such indescribable fury. 

They sat at the kitchen table discussing the events of the evening while Jean entertained Al in the living room. After he had woken up and Ed managed to convince him that everything was alright (a mother’s word may have been gospel, but to Al, Ed's was pretty damn close), the three of them were able to salvage the little time they had remaining and camped out on the sofa watching television.  But Ed had finally succumbed to the exhaustion wrought by his emotional crisis and went to bed without bathing, sleeping peacefully for the first night since Hohenheim had given his ridiculous sermon. Al, on the other hand, was relieved, rested, and wide awake; sleeping was the last thing on his mind.

“I’m so sorry that you got caught in the middle of our little family squabble,” she said, sounding as polite as ever. 

“Did I say the right thing?” he asked.

“Yes, of course you did. I suppose I should have had this talk with Edward myself when I first realized it, but then again, it never occurred to me that my husband would take it upon himself to do what he did.” She let out a small titter and took a sip of coffee. “Oh well.  What’s done is done.”

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“Oh, no, no sweetheart. You’ve done more than enough.” Trisha pushed the cup away and folded her hands on the tabletop. She leaned forward as if she was about to divulge the most secret of secrets and Roy had the distinct feeling that he was witnessing firsthand exactly _why_ hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Especially mothers, it would seem.

She tilted her head and smiled kindly, but in no way, shape, or form did it even come _close_ to touching her eyes. 

“I’ll deal with Hohenheim _myself_.”

*****

Later, Roy leaned against the back of the door, grateful to finally be home. He ran his hands through his hair stood there for a minute, trying to process everything that had happened over the past few hours. 

_Fuck it._

He didn’t want to try and process it. He didn’t even want to _think_ about it anymore. He had saved the day as much as he could and now he just wanted to burn something. A roaring fire and a stiff drink--those were the only things he wanted at that moment. 

But first, he needed food. 

He trudged into the kitchen and found Maes rummaging around in the fridge. Maes, who would never judge him, who would always accept him, and who would rather die than hurt him or allow him to be hurt.  
  
Roy knew that his life was far from perfect.  But he had _him,_ which made him goddamn luckier than most.   

He slowly walked over to him with no real understanding of why he was about to do what he was about to do. But he didn’t want to think about _that_ , either. It was what he wanted, even more than food, fire, or drink.   
  
That alone was reason enough.  
  

*****

“You want a sandwich?” Maes asked, sniffing a bag of salami and trying to determine its edibility. He tossed it back into the fridge and closed the door. “Or I could cook something...  What’s wrong?”

Maes frowned as he stared down at Roy. Something else must have happened at Ed's house.  So help him if that kid’s father said some bullshit to him again…

“Roy?”

“Don’t say anything,” Roy quietly ordered, moving in front of Maes and resting his head on the teen's chest. He wrapped his arms around Maes’ waist and squeezed him tightly. “Just… give me a minute… please.”  
  
Maes didn't move, didn't even _breathe_ for fear of breaking whatever spell had prompted such a rare, unsolicited, and _sober_ show of emotion.  He didn't sense any real cause for concern; if that had been the case, Roy would have most likely gone for the nearest bottle right away.   
  
No, it wasn't anything that serious.  At least, as far as he could tell, not anymore.   
   
“Hey, take as long as you want,” Maes assured him. “I won’t even get a hard-on,” he added cheekily, feeling the bloom of a smile against his chest. 

“That would be a miracle,” Roy muttered into his shirt. 

“Pretty much,” Maes agreed, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of Roy’s hair. He leaned back against the refrigerator and returned his friend’s embrace, shutting his mind off to everything else, save for the body that he held in his arms. There would be plenty of time to question it later; for now, he just wanted to treasure it for what it was.  

Amazingly enough, he actually _didn’t_ get a hard-on. Apparently, some things were entirely more enjoyable than sex.

*****

_… Do you love him?_

Yes.

Yes, he did.

Now what on earth was he supposed to do about it?

 


	11. Chapter 11

Trisha Elric eased into her son’s room like a thief in the night. But the only thing she wanted to steal was a glimpse. 

She crept over to his bed and knelt down at the edge, smiling sadly at the stubborn little cowlick that poked out from the blanket that buried him. But because she desperately wanted--no, _needed_ \--to look at him right now, she slowly peeled it back to reveal his sleeping face, so precious and lovely and angelic in his slumber, feeling the sting give way to the flood as she clapped a hand over her mouth and wept silently. It was a skill she had honed over many, many years now; she wasn’t sure if she was even _capable_ of crying out loud anymore. Perfect wives and mothers did not do such abhorrent things. 

Oh, how many tears had she shed for this boy over the past eight years? How often had she been forced to watch his torment because of that damned automail, whether from the physical pain of having it attached or adjusted, or the emotional pain of the taunting children who feared it? How many times had she just wanted to take him and run away from all of the suffering he had already known at such a young age… and the suffering yet to come? How many sleepless nights, much like this one, had she spent wondering, worrying, and praying for his happiness and his safety? 

And now came a new worry, one that paralyzed her more than the others combined:

What if something happened to her and he was left in Hohenheim’s care?

Before his return, she had been content in the knowledge that Pinako would see after the boys in her absence. Although the little old woman was a bit rough around the edges and swore more than anyone she had ever known in her life, Trisha knew that they would be provided and cared for. She might have even been content with Hohenheim had he retained even a fraction of the personality he had before he left, although it was hard to believe that there had _ever_  been a time when he was the perfect husband and father. Now, the thought of Ed and Al being left to Hohenheim in the event of her untimely death was more frightening than the idea of death itself. 

Trisha wiped her face and tried to regain some semblance of composure. She was no good to her children _or_ herself as an emotional wreck; there would be plenty of time to break down later. She leaned forward and eased her head down beside Ed’s, breathing in his scent and letting it soothe the heartache and anger and sadness and rage inside of her. After talking to Roy, her first instinct had been to go over to Hohenheim’s new place and beat him within an inch of his sorry life with anything she could get her hands on and, truthfully, she hadn’t yet ruled that out completely. She felt sick to her stomach when she thought about the anguish Ed must have gone through at the hands of his father’s depraved sense of morals; sicker still--as well as guilty--when she realized that she may not have ever even known about any of it if not for Roy. 

She needed a plan, something guaranteed to make Hohenheim go away for good. But she had to be smart about it; the last thing she wanted was to land herself in jail, no matter how satisfying the idea of bashing in his face seemed. 

With a silent yawn, Trisha closed her eyes, racking her tired mind for a solution…

*****

“… Mom?”

Ed stared at the top of his mother’s sleeping head with a soft smile. It had been a long time since she had last done this, at least to his waking knowledge. With a sharp gasp, he immediately realized that Roy must have told her everything that happened earlier that night. He quickly pulled his blanket over his face and squeezed his eyes shut, blushing profusely and cringing inwardly at the idea of her knowing those things about him. Not that he thought she would disapprove; he believed Roy was right about Trisha’s infinite acceptance. Still, this was _his mother._  It was just embarrassing!

But… it was kind of nice, too. Comforting, even. The dread that he had felt, which had already dissipated somewhat with Roy’s soothing words, was now completely gone. His dad was an idiot, plain and simple; one who deserved a good, swift kick in a variety of sensitive areas. It definitely gave him something to look forward to the next time he saw him.

He tucked the blanket under his chin and scooted closer to her, taking great care not to jostle her awake. A wave of love washed over him as he gazed at her, one that made him want to cry for reasons he was too young to fully grasp. She was just so… _perfect_. And sweet. And pretty. She was easily the best mom on the planet, hands down. Ed knew that he and Al were lucky; a lot of the kids he knew didn’t have mothers nearly as wonderful as theirs. Some of them had no moms _at all_ , a thought he was not even remotely ready to consider. He was already well past the age of innocence when he had actually once believed his parents would live forever; one didn't go through the constant barrage of pain brought on by having to live with the pitfalls of automail _without_ knowing about the harsh reality of life and death. But to think about life without her was something he just couldn't bring himself to do. 

Ed reached out with his left hand and gently curled a lock of her hair around his fingers, closing his eyes and letting it invoke a tranquility within him that little else ever could. He had no way of knowing that it had been that way since the start of his young life, the countless times he would clutch his mother’s hair as an infant while he fell into a sound sleep, much like now. He was also unaware of the pleasure that such a simple little thing had always brought her over the years, prompting a radiant smile of joy at the touch of his tiny fingers as they twirled around her thick, brown hair.

… Much like now.

*****

Roy woke up to a very delicate situation. 

A very _hard_ delicate situation. 

While it certainly wasn’t unexpected for a normal sixteen-year-old, it was still a bit disconcerting… although he supposed it would have been far worse waking up to ruined sheets. He was actually a bit surprised that it wasn’t a more common morning occurrence, considering the fact that he rarely indulged in that particular fancy anymore because… well, because… he didn’t have the time. Yes, that was it. It most certainly had nothing to do with the memory of a certain not-too-long-ago evening of hot mutual masturbation between two friends on a shared bed, or the startlingly _vivid_ imagery of that experience that came bolting to the surface of his mind whenever he thought about doing it. 

Nope. Nothing at all.

He glanced at the clock and figured that he was in the clear since Maes was normally up and dressed by the time he rolled out of bed. And so he rolled out of bed, swearing under his breath as he stubbed his toe and banged his shin against the offensive dresser that got in the way of his groggy flailing. He stretched and yawned loudly, then glanced down at the annoying protrusion, willing it away lest he ended up peeing right in his face. 

With a small shake of the head, Roy stumbled over to the bedroom door and opened it.

“Good morn--oh!”

*****

Despite his reputation for being a whore, Maes really _did_ try to be a gentleman. Sometimes.

But what else was he supposed to do when confronted by Roy’s morning wood except _gawk?_   

“Stop staring at my fucking junk,” the teen growled, turning to face wall. 

“Kind of hard not to when you almost put my eye out with it,” Maes quipped.

“Well what the hell are you doing lurking outside of my door?”

“I came to make sure you set your alarm since we weren’t exactly _coherent_ last night, were we?”

“…Oh.”

The night before, after Roy’s impromptu embrace, the two friends had spent the rest of the night talking, eating, and drinking in front of a roaring fire, one built to picture-perfection by Roy after Maes almost set himself ablaze while attempting to use Roy's glove. They had managed to polish off an entire bottle of Jack between the two of them before bumbling their respective way to their bedrooms and falling asleep with no real recollection of how they even got there, let alone undressed themselves. 

Now that he was awake and sober enough to reflect on things, Maes decided that he wasn’t exactly thrilled about the situation Roy was facing in dealing with those kids and their asshole dad. However, since Roy didn’t seem willing to quit babysitting, all he could do was support his decision to continue doing so. But so help him if this Hohenheim character ever said or did anything to hurt him again…

“Well, I’m up now, so thanks,” Roy muttered, lurching down the hallway toward the bathroom.

“Welcome,” Maes replied, staring at the teen’s back. “Try not to piss in your face.”

Roy responded with a middle finger before shutting himself in the bathroom. Maes smiled thoughtfully at the gesture and headed back into the kitchen, wondering for the hundredth time just how in the hell he was going to make it through the day when all he could think about was fucking his best friend. 

Something had to give. And _soon._

*****

Hohenheim had expected the impromptu caller to be his wife. He had no friends to speak of who would have even known his new whereabouts, let alone come to visit him. What he _hadn’t_ expected was the sudden fierce and stinging blow that lit up the left side of his face and sent his glasses flying onto the floor. 

To be fair, though, he didn't think Trisha had expected it either.

He rubbed his cheek and stared calmly at her fiery eyes and flushed face and heaving chest. All disrespect aside--truly, the woman seemed to have lost _all_ sense of how to be a wife--Hohenheim couldn’t help but find her incredibly desirable at that moment, more so than he had in years. Or ever. Anger brought out a beauty in her, a _life_ in her, that he had never suspected she could possess. 

“I suppose you think I had that coming,” he said, picking up his glasses and checking them for damages. “But as I said from the beginning, Trisha, if you would have just let me explain my absence properly--”

“Hohenheim, I don’t give _a fuck_ where you were.” The anger on her face broke, replaced by one of unfathomable betrayal.  Seething rage radiated from her body in waves.  “How could you do that to Edward?” she asked. “Do you have _any idea_ how much you could have permanently scarred him with your bullshit?”

“I don’t think there’s any need to be so overdramatic about it... or vulgar,” Hohenheim replied, sliding on his glasses. “He’s a resilient young man,” he added proudly, taking no shame in complimenting himself through his son. 

“He’s _a scared little boy,_ you idiot. A scared little boy who probably…” She paused for a moment to think about her words. “Who probably has a lot of questions about his life right now. And the last thing he needs is for his own father to make him terrified of what he might be. I think he already gets that enough from everyone else; he shouldn’t have to deal with it in his own home.”

Hohenheim clenched his teeth and quickly glanced beyond Trisha to see if anyone was within eye- or earshot of them. He supposed it was futile to try and prevent the woman from making any more of a potential scene by coming inside of his new home and, quite frankly, he wasn’t sure he even wanted her there given the wild and somewhat  _dangerous_ look in her eyes. It wasn’t all that uncommon after all, emotionally charged wives snapping on their husbands over some perceived slight. And considering his own behavior over the years, he could fully admit that it was something of a miracle that he hadn’t yet been maimed in some way. Of course, he had no idea how close he had come to being just that.

Even so, they couldn’t just stand there in full view of any potential passers-by.  This was _his wife._   It was just embarrassing!

“Trisha,” he said softly, as if employing the old Elric charm still had some measure of effectiveness. “Why don’t we talk about this over the weekend?” he suggested.

“Do you _honestly_ think I’m letting you near those children after what you did?” 

Her response didn’t surprise him at all; one some level, he supposed he had been anticipating it all along. 

“I don’t think that’s up to you,” he pointed out. 

“Oh, really?” 

Hohenheim found himself taken aback by his wife’s sudden smile. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t lovely. It wasn’t beautiful. 

It was downright malicious.

And finally, for the first time since his unexpected and unwelcome return, Hohenheim fully realized the extent of the error in his assumptions about the nature of Trisha Elric, particularly when their children were involved.

Simply put, he’d made a _big_ mistake. 

“Then by all means," Trisha continued.  "Let’s bring in a judge so that you can explain exactly why you feel you’re entitled to _any_ parental visitation after purposely traumatizing your own son to the point where he couldn’t sleep at night, not to mention abandoning your family for years on end. Let's take this to court, where you’ll not only have to account for your whereabouts while you were gone, but also _who you were with_.” She folded her arms and fixed him with a glare full of frightening promise. “If that’s what you want, then that’s fine with me.”  
  
That was the last thing he wanted.  And she damn well knew it.  
   
"Trisha, look,” he started, taking a step back. “All I mean to say is that they’re _my_ children too.”

“I know,” she agreed, although the mild disgust on her face exhibited a wish otherwise. “That’s why, if the day ever comes when _they_ want to see _you_ , I won’t try to stop them. But for now, the best thing--the _smartest_ thing--for you to do is leave us alone. Go back to  _wherever_ you were, and just _leave us alone_.  Because if you try to back me into a corner on this, Hohenheim, I swear...”  Her voice trailed away, leaving him to imagine the unpleasant possibilities of her unspoken promise.

She sighed deeply, tiredly, and pressed a hand to her temple, trying to rub away the ache behind it. Hohenheim wisely held his tongue and waited, but in the end, she had nothing more to say.  Neither did he.  Nothing that would have changed the woman's mind, at any rate. 

They looked at each other across the short space between them, each of them trying to fathom the person that the other had become and looking for some small shred, the faintest _hint_ of the one that they had loved so dearly.    
  
But they found nothing.

Nothing at all.

*****

Trisha shook her head slowly and righted her purse on her shoulder. She took one last look into the cold eyes of her husband before walking away. She could feel him staring until she rounded the corner, out of his line of sight. 

Things had gone smoothly, much more smoothly than she had expected… at least, they had _after_ her initial outburst. Whether or not the man actually adhered to her demand remained to be seen. The odds _were_ in her favor because Hohenheim was a man driven by appearances. Why else would he insist on having a subservient wife and obedient, _heterosexual_ children? He had been secretive enough about his absence for Trisha to deduce that it was an… _affair_ … over which he preferred to remain mum; it would be foolish of him to push her if he really didn't care to divulge such things.

She slunk down into the seat of her car and closed her eyes with a frown. She had a bastard of a headache, no doubt compounded by what had just taken place. It was little wonder, with her mind and heart having run the gamut of crippling emotions over the course of the past few hours, from sadness to fear to rage and everything in between. Now, all she wanted was to go home and enjoy the peace and quiet and solitude of an empty house until the boys arrived home that afternoon. 

But first, she  _really_ needed a cigarette.

*****

“What’s up, Slut?”

Maes smiled and looked up from his locker to greet Riza. “I don’t know, Whore. You tell me.”

Riza grinned and leaned against the wall of lockers beside him while he plundered for his calculus book. “So where’s your life partner?”

“Fuck if I know. We’re not joined at the hip.”

“Not that you don’t want to be,” she pointed out. 

“Maybe,” he said, tucking the book under his arm and slamming his locker shut. “Why? Jealous?”

“Jealous _of_ what?” 

Maes adjusted his glasses and smirked. “The fact that _I’m_ the best lay you ever had and you still want me.”

Riza’s laughter rang down the hallway. “ _God,_ you are such an arrogant fuck,” she said.

“But am I wrong?”

Riza rolled her eyes and started walking down the hallway. Knowing that he had won, Maes caught up with her and together they weaved through the bustling crowd of students as they made their way to their respective classes. 

“Have you told him?” Riza asked. 

“Told him what?”

“You _know_ what. That you--hey _watch it_ , asshole!” she snapped at a boy who made the unfortunate mistake of bumping into her. “That you like him,” she finished, keeping her voice low.

“Mmmmmnope.”

His honesty was rewarded with a sharp punch in the arm. “Why not?”

“Because it would just make everything weird.” 

Riza stopped walking and gaped at him. “But he knows you want … that. How would knowing you actually _like_ him make things any weirder than that?”

Maes tried to come up with a reasonable explanation and could only scrunch his face in frustration.  “I don't know. It just _would._ Sex is one thing. This is… it’s just different. Now come on, we're gonna be late.”

He grabbed Riza by the arm and pulled her along, much to the amused interest of those around them who could never get enough of their hallway antics.  Because he was so intent on getting to class, he didn’t see the steel-eyed look of calculated consideration on her face as she pondered his dilemma, devising a plan that would--starting that night--set in motion a chain of events that would change his relationship with Roy for the rest of their lives.

*****

Roy watched the two of them as they ambled along, barely aware of the slow frown that surfaced on his face at the sight of them, looking so disgustingly... _perfect_ together. Everyone at school knew about what had happened between Maes and Riza; it only made sense, he assumed, for people to think that they were, in some way, shape, or form, a couple. Even if only in the carnal sense of the word.  The revelation filled him with...

What exactly was it, this feeling that rose in his chest, burning through him like wildfire?  Making him worry, making him--  
  
 _Angry??_

Well, no. It wasn't anger. He _knew_ what it was. Even if he didn’t care to admit it.

But what did it mean?

His frown deepened considerably.

It seemed he already had a good idea about the answer to _that_ question, too. And he didn't like it.  
  
He didn't like it _at all._


	12. Chapter 12

“Roy! Ed called me a bad name!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did! I’m telling Mom!”

“Tattletale!”

Roy tore his eyes away from the surprisingly mesmerizing infomercial hosted by a seemingly crazy man wearing a weird question mark suit and glared at the two brothers with his best attempt at parental intimidation.

“Ed, stop calling your brother names. Al, no tattling.” 

He knew both requests were futile but at least it kept them quiet… for all of three seconds.

“Whatcha watchin’ Roy?” Al asked, launching himself onto the couch beside him.

“This guy is telling me how to get free money,” Roy explained. 

“I want free money!” Al giggled gleefully, swinging his feet in the air. 

“Me too,” Roy added.

“His suit is stupid,” Ed piped in, cocking his head to the side as he watched the television.

“That it is,” Roy agreed. “But I think it would look good on you,” he added with a smirk.

Al howled in laughter as if that was the funniest line ever uttered in the entire history of man, which caused Roy to laugh along with him and conversely caused Ed to plot his silent revenge… not that there was much in the way of plotting. Or silence. 

The devious eight-year-old crept--quite obviously--over to the couch and catapulted himself onto his little brother, pinning him down and tickling him. Al’s laughter turned into a screaming guffaw as he tried to free himself, frantically flailing about and kicking Roy repeatedly in the process. 

_“ED! St-stop or I’m gonna PEEEEEEE!!!!”_

Despite being pelted with the stomping of tiny feet, Roy couldn’t help but grin at the two of them. Ultimately deciding he would rather _not_ have to deal with pee of all things, he put the remote down and turned towards Ed--

_“Aaaaaaack!”_

In a most regrettable knee-jerk reaction to the sniper tickle attack, Ed’s right arm swung back and caught Roy square on the nose. Worse still, his left leg shifted violently… right into the poor teen’s crotch. But because Roy didn’t want to make the child feel bad for kicking his ass, he gritted his teeth and managed only by the most miraculous of miracles to choke back the scathing string of expletives that rose to his lips.

Despite seeing stars and, once again, questioning his ability to function where it counted, Roy was having a blast. It was one of many moments the three of them would fondly with a smile remember some years later… namely because Al totally peed.

*****

“I’m sorry I’m not as good as your mom with this,” Roy said, running a towel along Ed’s automail foot. He had never saw the point in doing it until he realized just how much the kid tended to drip around the house after bathing.

“Sokay,” Ed muttered, adorned in the frog pajamas that never ceased being adorable. He leaned back on his hands as he sat on the edge of his bed, holding out his left leg for Roy. “One time, I stood still so long that Al thought I peed on the floor,” he added with a grin.

“He should talk, huh?” Roy glanced up into the child’s smiling face and felt a flood of affection wash over him. “But don’t tell him I said that.”

Ed shook his head in promise and wiggled his feet. Roy stared at the fascinating appendage and finally felt comfortable enough to ask the question he had been dying to ask from the start.

“Why do you have automail?”

A dark cloud passed over Ed's golden eyes and Roy immediately regretted his curiosity. 

“Never mind,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“Accident.”

Roy bit his lip as he considered Ed’s short, curt answer. What sort of horrendous accident would render a child limbless? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Oh. Okay.” 

The child's face contorted into a ball of discomfort as he stammered in his explanation. “A-Al… he… he was in trouble… and I-”

“Hey.” Roy placed a soothing hand on Ed's right knee and smiled softly at the troubled boy. “Tell me when _you’re_ ready to tell me,” he said. “Alright?”

Ed let out a shaky sigh and nodded. The cloud was thankfully gone for now. “‘Kay.”

Roy nodded back in approval and gently squeezed his knee before moving his hand away. “Okay, give me a good shake.”

Ed shook his leg vigorously, spraying the teen in the face with droplets of water and giggling fiendishly as he did so.

“Alright then. Let’s try that again,” Roy said, wiping his face with the towel as Ed fell back on the bed and cackled happily.

It was still, and would always remain, music to his ears.

*****

Hohenheim stared at the house for a very long time. So long, in fact, that he was completely unaware of the person who had been staring at _him_ for almost as long. 

“I’m pretty sure that what you’re doing is against the law. And even if it isn’t, it’s just kinda creepy.”

He spun around and found himself face-to-face with a tall, well-built teen, one that the girls would probably call a “stud” or whatever the terminology was these days. 

“This is my house,” he said, asserting what he hoped was an air of authority. But damned if this kid didn’t exude  _presence_. Those eyes alone--a deep shade of green that epitomized the word ‘piercing’ even behind a pair of glasses--were enough to make him wonder if he really was the one in control here, especially as they crawled over his face, almost as if in recognition.

“With all due respect, _sir_ , I think your wife might disagree with that assessment.”

Hohenheim’s eyes widened in disbelief, not only over the blatant lack of respect this boy showed but that he seemed to know who he was at all. Then it hit him in a flash--of course this had to be another one of Roy’s  _friends_...

*****

Maes had never, in all the years of his young adult life, wanted to hurt another human being more than the asshole standing before him now. This fucking pitiful excuse for a man, who had made the oh-so-grave mistake of hurting Roy… he could almost _taste_ the rage welling in him. 

Hohenheim cleared his throat and Maes just barely refrained from punching him in it. 

“Well, son,” the older man began. “Regardless of what you think you might know--”

“I know that you’re not supposed to be here,” Maes said, taking a step toward him. “And… don’t… ever… call me son.” 

The teen slowly advanced on Hohenheim…

*****

“Hi… Mom?”

Ed froze as he watched his mother enter the house with… with _him._  

Roy’s friend with the copycat cowlick. Mace, was it? 

Whatever his stupid name was, it was surely stupid.

What the hell was he doing there? 

“Hello sweetheart,” Trisha said, bending down to kiss his head. “Where’s your brother?”

“Bed.” Ed never took his eyes off Maes. “Where’s Jean?” he demanded.

“He had to work late,” Maes explained. “Um… I’m… going to go wait in the car,” he said to Roy.

“Nonsense,” Trisha replied, pulling him into the living room. “You’re going to come in and have something to drink. Ed, sweetie? Why don’t you see what Maes would like to have?... Ed?”

The eight-year-old gawked at his mother’s request. She wasn’t serious, was she? How did she honestly expect him to be so damn hospitable to this guy? This guy who looked so… stupid… and… _right_ … standing next to Roy.

_Stop standing next to him, you… you asshole!!!_

Ed frowned over his dilemma. He didn’t want to say something that would make his mother admonish him like a child in front of Roy and Maes. He was just a kid, sure enough, but he would rather die than have that called to their attention, as if--in his naive way of thinking--it was something that they would only notice if he did something bad.

“I’m tired,” he announced suddenly, ignoring the way Roy’s eyes appraised him. “May I please go to bed?”

Trisha paused, gaping openly at her son’s uncharacteristically polite choice of words. “… Yes, of course you can, honey. Come on, I’ll take you.”

“I want Roy to take me.”

Anything, _anything_ to get him away from stupid Maes for five minutes.  True, it would have been better, not to mention _looked_ better, to insist that he could take himself to bed without assistance--that’s what big kids did, after all--but Ed’s unbearable need to separate the two of them overrode any desire he had to exude maturity. 

“Um…” Trisha blinked at her son’s request before turning to Roy with a questioning gaze.

“Sure. No problem,” Roy said, stepping away from Maes--

_Finally!_

\--and walking over to Ed. “You ready?” he asked, staring down at him. 

Ed nodded happily. “Goodnight Mom,” he said, allowing her to hug and kiss him now that Roy would be the one to escort him upstairs. 

“Goodnight honey. I’ll be up a little later, okay?”

“Okay.” Ed looked at Maes and frowned again. The teen was smiling at him in a way that Ed didn’t like. Was he… was he _laughing_ at him?

Did that mean that he knew?

Ed blushed and bolted up the stairs without looking back. Roy regarded Trisha and Maes with a confused shrug before following...

*****

... and tucking him snugly into his bed.

“There you go,” he said, giving his cowlick a token tug. “Now go to sleep or I’ll pull Optimus’ head off.”

Ed grinned delightfully at Roy’s empty threat. “Nuh uhhh.”

Roy smiled and patted the boy’s chest through the blanket. “Yeah, you’re right.  I'd pull _your_ head off first.”

“Roy?”

“Hm?”

He could see the child’s busy brain working and wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he had asked him to see him off to sleep. 

“Is Mace your…?” Ed blushed and stared at the wall as he let the question trail away into silence.

Roy realized what Ed was implying and felt a blush of his own rise in his cheeks. What on earth had even possessed him to even ask such a thing?  And why would he ask that about Maes, when Jean was the one who had always picked him up before?

“It’s Maes,” he corrected, getting the easy part out of the way. “And… no… he’s not… he’s not my boyfriend.” It felt weird to even say such a thing in Ed’s presence, but then again, Roy supposed it was only normal that he would inquire about such things and more. It wasn’t as if the kid knew scores of gay people.

“He’s my best friend and I care about him a lot, but that’s it,” he added.

_Was it? Really?_

“Okay.” The answer seemed to satisfy Ed as he snuggled into his sheets, yawning loudly. He stared into Roy’s eyes with an intensity that gave the teen pause. Roy couldn’t help but feel a small measure of envy; the kid was going to break hearts with that gaze one day, he was sure of it.

“What is it, Ed?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. 

“… Nothing,” the child said with a sigh. 

“You sure?”

Ed nodded emphatically. Roy reached down and ruffled his hair, and Ed teasingly stuck out his tongue in response. 

“Goodnight.”

“‘Night.”

Roy stared at him for a moment longer before rising to his feet. He gave Ed’s foot a playful tug as he walked past the bed and made his way to the door, wondering what sort of dreams might come to such a unique little creature… with absolutely no idea that he himself was a recurring presence in many of them.

*****

Trisha watched the car until it was little more than two tiny red dots in the night before smoothing the curtain closed and walking into the kitchen to pour herself another cup of coffee. She sat down at the table and pulled a cigarette from the pack tucked safely away in her pocket; the boys never went through her purse, but it was best to play it safe. She lit it and dragged deeply, letting the smoke fill her lungs and relax her. She took another drag and tapped ash into the palm of her hand; the kitchen sink was entirely too far away for such things at the moment. She found her mind wandering back to Roy and his friend Maes, a most well-mannered and (she had to admit) attractive young man who, in the ten minutes she had come to know him, seemed fiercely loyal to his best friend. Almost to a fault.

Perhaps she was growing more adept at seeing the signs. 

It was the only reason Trisha could think of to explain the fact that she knew there was something more than just friendship between the two of them. Even though she had missed the tell-tale signal of blatant attraction to Roy in her own son, these two boys displayed a closeness that she wasn’t sure if even _they_ realized they possessed in each other’s presence. 

It was all rather… _cute._

But still, she couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for Ed, whose crush on Roy ran so deep that she doubted anything could sway it, even her. All of the sheltering in the world couldn’t protect him from a broken heart. It was yet another worry to add to her long list of motherly woes.

Trisha downed the rest of her drink and hauled her tired body out of the chair. She walked over to the sink, rinsed her hand off, then cracked open the window to let out the smoke. She stared out into the night with a sad, lovelorn gaze, pondering first loves and broken hearts, and how they were sometimes very much one in the same.

*****

“Are your folks _ever_ home?”

Maes grinned at Riza’s query as he cracked open a bottle of vodka and took a generous swig. It was a fair question; the truth of the matter was that more often than not his parents _weren’t_ home, leaving their son to fend for himself with little more than a fridge full of food and a liquor cabinet ripe for the picking. He had always suspected that one of the reasons he and Roy had hit it off so quickly was because of their shared lack of parenting.

“They’ll be back in the morning,” Maes informed her, grabbing five shot glasses and joining her, Sheska, Jean, and Roy on the floor in front of the television. Scattered piles of cards, poker chips, and pizza boxes were spread between them. He handed everyone a glass and saved one for himself.

“So what now?” Roy asked, scooting next to Maes and helping himself to the bottle.

“Monopoly!” Sheska yelled, raising her arms victoriously. And she wasn’t even drunk yet.

“Lame,” Jean announced.

“Agreed,” Maes added, dropping a wink at the pouting girl to soothe her hurt feelings.

“I know what we could do,” Riza said coyly. When she was certain of all eyes being on her, she continued. “We can play Truth or Dare.”

A low murmur of agreement filled the room. “Sounds good,” Maes said, taking the bottle away from Roy. 

Riza gazed at her friends and flashed a toothy, shark-like grin.

“Good.  Who wants to start?”

***** 

While never a game to be taken lightly, Truth or Dare was even more cutthroat among the five of them, where questions of truth could find any of them divulging the deepest, darkest secrets of their heart and dares involved some of the most sexual and/or depraved acts ever witnessed. Failure to answer a truth merely resulted in a penalty shot of alcohol. Failure to complete a dare? Twenty dollars payable to the one whose dare was denied.  Of course, it could only be a dare that the darer was willing to do themselves but with a group this stubborn, there was precious little they _weren’t_ willing to do to embarrass each other. In addition, questions of a particularly delicate nature were usually avoided out of mutual respect. If it was a subject that was generally accepted as forbidden territory, it was never to be broached during their gameplay.

…Which was why no one could have been more surprised than Maes when Riza dared him to kiss Roy.

_“What?!”_

Riza gave the stunned teen a smug grin. “I said I dare you to kiss Roy… on the lips… with tongue… for one whole minute.” 

Jean almost swallowed his cigarette in his sudden gasp. Sheska’s eyes flew open with shock… and curiosity. Roy frowned and looked down at the empty shot glass on the floor in front of him. As an unwilling addition to Roy’s dare, he _did_ have the right to bow out of it but Maes knew that if that happened, then it would have drawn a kind of attention from Jean and Sheska that he was not ready to have. Dealing with Riza’s annoying nosiness was bad enough; he wasn’t prepared to share his feelings with anyone else just yet, not when he was still trying to wrap his head around them.

“Wow,” Sheska said.

“That’s a hell of a dare,” Jean added, lighting a fresh cigarette.    

Maes glared daggers at the young woman, who flashed him a knowing smile. Although he could have never brought himself to hit her (because he didn’t believe in hitting girls… not to mention the fact that she could probably hand his ass to him), he was pissed as hell at her daring. 

“What’s the problem?” she asked with fake innocence. “You guys dare Sheska and me to make out all the time when we play, right Sheska?”

“Yep,” the bespectacled teen agreed. 

“Who says there’s a problem?” Roy said, snatching the bottle from Maes and taking a long drink. He winced as he wiped his mouth and handed it back to him.

Maes set the bottle on the floor--where it was immediately intercepted by Jean--and stared at Roy, who refused to meet his eyes. The others might not have seen it but Maes knew better. He knew damn well that this _was_ a problem, a _big fucking problem_. But how the hell was he supposed to go about saying it? He didn’t want this… well, he _did_ , but not like this. Not on display for the ogling of his friends. Not as a part of some twisted child’s play. 

Fucking Riza…

“Okay, so if there are no objections…” She checked her watch before looking back up at them with a twinkle of humor in her eyes. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Roy turned to face him and waited, his visage calm and cool, despite the soft blush that settled into his face. Maes inched toward him, clenching his teeth and trying to ignore the thundering pound of his heartbeat. He felt almost sick to his stomach in embarrassment and anticipation and worry and eagerness.  He met Roy’s eyes and tried to discreetly communicate his concern under the suffocating weight of three gazes, but Roy merely shook his head and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs.   
  
Suddenly, a new thought occurred to Maes, one that he would have never even dared to think until that moment:

Did Roy… _want_ this?

Maes peeled off his glasses and placed them on the floor. He began slowly leaning in--

“Any day now.”

_“Shut the fuck up, Riza,”_ he growled, sparing her an icy green glare before turning back to Roy. 

“Dude, I don’t really think it’s necessary for all that,” Jean said. “I drank toilet water the last time we played, for fuck’s sake. I’d make out with Roy any day of the week before doing _that_ shit again.”

“That was so gross,” Sheska added with a shudder.

“Whatever. Let’s just get it over with,” Roy said. “Just… _do it_ ,” he insisted to Maes. 

Maes sighed deeply and stared at Roy’s expectant face. Again, he leaned forward, willing his body not tremble noticeably as he closed in on Roy’s lips. The two teens closed their eyes as their lips touched, each of them lightly gasping through their noses from the initial contact. 

Roy’s lips were soft, much softer than he had expected or imagined, softer than any girl’s he’d ever known. Because he knew he had to do it, Maes pressed forward with his tongue, using it to gently prod his way into Roy’s mouth, unable to stop the moan from escaping him as their tongues met for the first time. He felt the teen’s body stiffen as they instinctively intertwined, flicking back and forth against each other amidst the gentle nipping of Maes’ teeth. Maes’ hands curled into tight fists as they kissed; as much as he wanted to use them to touch Roy, he forced them to remain by his side. Unfortunately, and as he suspected, they were the _only_ parts of his body that obeyed his wishes. He felt himself grow painfully hard as Roy rammed his tongue in deeper and responded to his nipping in kind.   
  
_Holy shit, where the hell did he learn to kiss like this???_

“T-Time.”

Roy quickly broke the kiss and turned away, shuddering and breathing heavily, his face now a mask of crimson. Maes eagerly swallowed their combined saliva and let out a shaky sigh. His body was on fire, his mind was a haze, and after so many years of wanting, that he didn’t come all over himself was nothing short of miraculous. And yet now he was supposed to play it all off like it was no big deal?

He glanced at Riza. “There you go,” he uttered in a voice that sounded--at least to him--amazingly calm, considering the circumstances. “Happy now?”

_“Yes,”_ Sheska cut in. Her eyes were large and wide behind the frames of her glasses as she gaped at the two of them with newfound interest.

Riza, who had at some point acquired the vodka, tapped her fingers against the bottle neck and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Are _you?_ ”

Before Maes could answer, not that he had any idea of what he would have even said, Roy stood up and stormed out of the room. A few seconds later, the resounding slam of a door filled the house, causing the four of them to jump at the sound of it. 

_“Fuck.”_  Maes ran a distraught hand through his hair. The situation had quickly evolved into a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

“Uh… what’s going on?” Sheska asked. “What’s wrong with Roy?”

_Epic._

“I need you guys to leave,” Maes said. “Please.  _Now_.”

“Shit. Maes…” Riza, who was only now beginning to realize that her brilliant master plan was neither brilliant nor masterful, reached out to him--

“Don’t,” Maes warned her, backing away from her outstretched hand. Her consolation was the last thing he wanted. “You’ve already done enough. _Thank you._ ”

“Do you want us to help you clean up?” Sheska asked.

Maes shook his head. Because his anger had overridden his desire--for now--he was no longer hard and could stand up without embarrassing himself. As the others stood and stretched their legs, he helped Sheska to her feet and planted a chaste, brotherly kiss on her forehead. “Another time, okay?”

The four teens migrated to the front door. Riza opened her mouth to speak to Maes but wisely shut it after a seething glare advised her otherwise. She and Sheska left the house, leaving Jean alone with Maes. 

“I don’t want to talk about anything, Jean,” Maes said, heading him off at the pass.

Jean nodded and tucked a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. “Wasn’t gonna ask anything,” he replied, lighting it and inhaling deeply.

“Good.” Maes plucked the cigarette out of Jean’s mouth and took a drag of his own before giving it back to him. 

“Say, why don’t you go ahead and pick Roy up again tomorrow?” Jean suggested.

“You have to work late again?” Maes asked. 

“Nope.” Jean clapped him on the shoulder and ducked out of the door, shutting it before Maes could respond. 

The teen stared at the closed door.  A thoughtful smile bloomed on his face at Jean’s subtle mark of approval. 

“I guess you _are_ the brightest bulb in the pack, after all… sometimes.”

He locked the door and turned around, resting his back against it as he considered his options, which were twofold: Roy’s room or his. He wanted to talk to Roy about what had happened, especially since he almost never flew off the handle like that, which led Maes to believe that it had affected him more deeply than he realized it would.

_Because he wanted it too?_

But on the other hand, perhaps it was better to give him some time to himself. God knew Maes needed to process the whole thing too… in more ways than one, if his body had any say in the matter. With things being as awkward between them as they already were--

_Because he wanted it too???_

\--maybe it was for the best to call it a night.

Why couldn’t he just stick with wanting to fuck girls?

Moreover, why couldn’t he just stick with wanting to _fuck_ Roy? 

Maes gently thumped his head against the back of the door and let loose a gusting sigh before trudging his way through the living room and down the hallway.

*****

_I don’t want this._

Roy curled into a ball on top of his bed, repeating those words in his head as if they were the truth, even though his body’s slowly waning need was strong evidence to the contrary. 

The teen covered his face with his hands, horrified beyond belief at the display he had willingly taken part of. Amazingly enough, it really _had_ seemed like a good idea at the time. The point of even taking part in the dare was to sway any possible suspicion of something between him and Maes--not that there _was_ anything because there _wasn’t--_ yet he had to go and arouse it like wildfire by his impromptu and overly dramatic exit. Then again, what the hell else was he supposed to have done after making out with his best friend and subsequently getting a massive hard-on in front of a group of onlookers?

What a fucking clusterfuck.

He tried not to think about Maes’ kiss and, of course, found himself thinking of little else. True, he didn’t have much in the way of experience as a basis of comparison, but that... that was… _fucking amazing_. And to think that they could have been doing that all along.

_No!_

_No no no no no no no!_

_… no?_

“Roy?”

Roy squeezed his eyes shut against the sound of Maes’ voice, which was muffled but still very much audible through the bedroom door. He didn’t _want_ to want to hear it. 

He didn’t want…

“Hey… I’m sorry, okay?”

Why was _he_ apologizing? That was just like Maes, accepting responsibility even when he didn’t have to.

He continued, “Why did you…? Why didn’t you just say no? I mean… I think I know why you didn’t… but… if you really didn’t want to… then _why?_   For God's sake, man.  Every time I think that I don't have a chance... you...”

Roy heard a soft string of expletives from behind the door and felt a sudden, startling wave of guilt wash over him.   
  
He was such an idiot! Why hadn’t he put two and two together sooner? 

These weren’t the suave rantings of the resident school slut whose only ambition was to get in his pants. It was the sound of an insecure and questioning teenager dealing with a set of emotions that he had never experienced before, especially towards his _best friend_ , of all people. It was the sound of fear and uncertainty and worry over the possible evolution of a friendship into something new and unknown.

It was the sound of _Maes._  

“Look… forget it, okay?" Maes requested. " Let’s just… forget all of it… I'm sorry... Goodnight.”

A part of Roy wanted nothing more than to do just that, to banish the thought and treat it as if it never even existed. Granted, it was a small part, but still just strong enough to make itself heard.

However, it was far too late to do that.  It had been far too late for a long time.

Something had to give.  _Now._

*****

Maes had no sooner opened the door to his room when Roy opened his. The two friends gazed at each other from their respective side of the hallway, each of them trying to decide where to start.

“Maes…” Roy stared down at the floor, trying to make sense of the jumble of words in his head. “I… I…” He let out a sharp sigh and tried again. “… I know I’ve said this before but… you're _all I’ve got_. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“And you think I do?” Maes shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the doorway to his room. “Roy… you know that I want to… I want to have sex with you. I really… _really_ want to. But if that’s all this was to me, I’m pretty sure I could have just gone and found some random dude to fuck. That’s not what I want. Well… that’s not _just_ what I want.”

“So what, you want some sort of full-fledged relationship?  _You?_ ”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah, it is.  But not because you’re a  _man-whore_ \--no offense.”

“None taken,” Maes said with an ice-breaking smirk. “I get it. I _do_. And I know I brought it on myself… but you know… I _really_ think this could work.”

Roy folded his arms as he took in Maes’ words. “But people...”

“ _Fuck people_. Since when have you ever known me to care about what _people_ say?” Maes risked a step closer to Roy as he continued explaining himself. “I mean… I don’t think I’m ready to come bursting out of any closets or anything because I honestly can’t see wanting to be with any other guy besides you… and I’m not… _quite_ ready… for my parents to know because I’m afraid they might try to… I don’t know, kick you out or something… but… this _is_ what I want.”

Roy pulled his eyes away from Maes with a worried frown. It all sounded so nice... being with someone, being loved by someone... and who better than the someone who already knew him inside and out?   
  
Could it really work?   
  
Maes braved the rest of the hallway, closing the distance between them by standing directly in front of Roy.  He reached out with his foot and tapped it against Roy’s, a simple, almost childish thing, but one that made Roy smile regardless. 

“Roy.  If you don’t feel the same way, if it’s just me… then just _tell_ me so I don’t keep making an ass out of myself.”

Roy nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Maes’ eyebrows drew together. “Okay, what? Okay, you’re telling me I’m being an ass or…?”

“Okay, let’s try.” 

“… Are you sure?”

Roy unfolded his arms and let them fall to his sides. He stared into his best friend’s eyes and smiled softly. “Yeah.”

“You realize…” Maes reached down and grabbed him by the hand. “Once we do this… it’s _done_.”

“I know,” Roy said, trying not to shudder from the tingling heat that radiated up his arm as Maes gently rubbed his fingers. He turned his hand over and Maes ran his thumb along his palm, sending a fresh shock-wave tearing through him and reawakening his urges with a vengeance. 

And to think that just that morning he had actually cared that Maes could see his poorly concealed erection.

“What’s so funny?” Maes asked.

“Nothing,” Roy insisted, biting back his smile over the memory of that exchange. He had a hard time reconciling the normally brave and brazen Maes with this somewhat insecure one; not that it was a _bad_ thing, not at all. But that he could be the one to illicit such a drastic change in his friend's character, that Maes could--  
  
_Love?  
_  
\--care about him so much...  
   
This _could_ work between them. It really could. If they just took their time and developed their relationship on this new level, then anything was possible. And so they would take things slowly. One day at a time. 

But first, there was something that Roy really needed.  No,  _wanted._  Something he could finally admit to himself that he had wanted ever since that night in his bedroom.

He took Maes’ hand into his and slowly eased it downward.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

Maes eagerly obliged him, right there in the hallway and again in his bedroom.

***** 

“I’m going to have a hickey now,” Maes said an hour later.

They sat on top of his newly made bed playing Uno. Roy peered at the deep purple mark on Maes’ neck and flushed in embarrassment. He would have never thought he was capable of such a thing. “Sorry,” he muttered, staring down at the deck of cards in his hand. 

“I’m not complaining, stupe.” Maes discarded and stretched out his long legs so that they rested on either side of Roy’s. “Draw four.”

“Fuck me.” Roy reached down and picked up four cards from the deck between them. “That’s like your fourth one.”

“Luck of the draw, son,” Maes replied with a smirk. “Oh shit! That reminds me…”

Roy looked up from his horrendous hand. “What?”

“I saw that Hohenheim guy tonight when I came to pick you up.”

“Are you serious?”

Maes nodded solemnly as he rearranged his hand. “He was just standing there, watching the house all creepy like.”

Roy raised a suspecting eyebrow. “What did you do, Maes?”

“Me? Nothing… much.”

“Maes.”

“What?” The teen blinked innocently. “He took off _before_ I could kick his ass.”

Roy shook his head. “Did you tell Mrs. Elric?”

“No. It looked like she had enough shit on her mind tonight as it was.” Maes laid down his second to last card. “Uno.”

“Shit!” Roy frantically scanned his hand for a suitable card. “Eh, you’re probably right. She’s got enough to worry about. Who knows? Maybe you scared him away for good.”

Maes shrugged. “She’s a nice lady.”

Roy nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she is. And those boys… they’re something, too.”

“Don’t remind me,” Maes said. “It’s bad enough that one of them is my competition.”

Roy paused in the middle of discarding and gaped at Maes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re kidding right?” Maes glanced at Roy’s card and laid down his last one, signaling the end of the game.  _“Ed?”_

“What about him?”

“Roy. You honestly don't know that kid has a crush on you?”

“What? No. No he doesn’t.” Roy shook his head and gathered the cards to reshuffle them. “I think maybe he looks up to me a little bit because he’s… he already knows that he might be gay but… crush?” Roy shook his head again. “No.  _No._  There’s no way.”

_I want Roy to take me._

_Is Mace your…?_

Roy frowned as an onslaught of signs, now glaringly obvious in hindsight, came to barreling to the forefront of his mind. “Huh.”

“See?  _Told_ you.” Maes cut the deck and slid it back to Roy. “Kid’s gonna grow up to be a looker, too. I have every right to worry.”

Roy smirked as he began dealing a new game. “Well, he’s only eight. You have at least another good ten years before I even _think_ about falling for him.”

The two friends-- _the couple_ \--started their new game. Of course, neither of them had the slightest idea of the truth behind Roy’s joking words until many years later… but by then, it would be far too late to pay them any heed.  


	13. Chapter 13

As he slowly drifted towards awareness after his first night of truly restful sleep in months, Maes instinctively tightened his hold on the reason for said restfulness and planted his face in Roy's hair, smiling faintly as he breathed in the scent of the teen and happier than he had ever been in his entire life.   
  
Because Roy was there.  
  
In his bed.  
  
In his arms.  
  
_Finally._  
  
Ignoring the sounds that filtered into the bedroom, from the chirping birds to the slamming of car doors (odd how that almost sounded like it was right outside), he pried one green eye open and peered over at the nightstand to check the clock.  They had about twenty minutes before the alarm would sound, prompting them to get up and get dressed for school and Maes hadn’t the slightest intention of moving from that spot a moment sooner than he had to--  
  
_“Maes!”_  
  
*****  
  
_Who the hell is yelling?_  
  
Roy frowned as he felt himself being pulled from the comfort of REM sleep and a strange, indecipherable dream that was already fast dissipating--  
  
_Tiny mini-skirts???_  
  
\--by way of a frantic hand shaking his shoulder.  Before he could fully call to mind what was happening, he found himself being shoved hard in the back and toppling over the edge of the bed, landing on the floor with a loud, awkward thump.  
  
“What the fuck?”  
  
_“Shhh!”_  
  
Before Roy could take his new boyfriend to task for such an unceremonious first morning after, he found himself being pelted with a pillow and comforter a split second before the door to the bedroom opened.  
  
“Good morning. Oh.”  
  
“Hey, Dad.”  Maes grabbed his glasses from the nightstand and switched off the alarm clock.   
  
The elder Hughes, who was practically a future mirror image of his handsome son save for the facial hair and cowlick, stared at Maes with a raised brow. “I just wanted to let you know we were back,” he said.  He glanced briefly at Roy before returning his attention to his son, noting his extremely prominent hickey. “That’s a nice vampire bite you have there.”  
  
“Oh… yeah…  We had some friends over and did a little drinking,” Maes explained with a devilish grin, slipping on his glasses.  “The girls must have left before we woke up.”   
  
It wasn’t a _blatant_ lie; both statements did bear a vague whisper of truth.  And it was the perfect explanation for being discovered in a state of near nakedness with a very telling mark on Maes’ neck.  Luckily for the two of them, they’d at least had the presence of mind to don a pair of shorts before falling asleep the night before.  
  
Upon hearing the subtle emphasis on the gender of his son’s company, Mr. Hughes smiled proudly, more than willing to live vicariously through the wild, partying lifestyle of his slut of a son rather than take him to task for his risky and irresponsible behavior.   
  
“Your mother wants to head up to the casino for the weekend so we’ll probably be gone by the time you get home.  How are you boys set for cash?”  
  
Before Roy could open his mouth to beg off Mr. Hughes’ insistence on buying off his absence of parenting, Maes immediately spoke up, with every intention of seeing his father do just that.   
  
“We could use some more. If it’s not too much trouble.”  
  
The older man nodded in understanding.  His strapping young son had women to wine and dine, after all.  “No trouble at all, I’ll leave it on the kitchen counter. See you boys later.”  
  
“Goodbye, Mr. Hughes.”  
  
“See ya, Dad.”  
  
Maes waited until he heard his father retreat into the living room before crawling out of the bed to stumble over to the door and lock it.  He turned around and rested his back against it, letting out a large sigh of relief.  
  
“Shit,” Roy muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair.  “I forgot they were coming back today.”  
  
“Me too.”  Maes approached Roy and sank down to his knees, straddling the teen’s outstretched legs.  “Sorry about pushing you out of the bed like that but you wouldn’t wake up.  Must have been some hell of a dream.”  
  
“I don’t remember.”  Roy shrugged it off in favor of gazing into Maes’ eyes and smiling warmly.  In spite of the mild discomfort of his legs numbing under Maes’ weight and the throbbing pain in his hip from the abrupt landing onto the floor, he was happy.  He was happier than he had been… well… _ever_ , as far as he could remember.  Coming out about his feelings for Maes had been every bit as difficult as coming out about his sexuality but now that he had done it, he was hard pressed to figure out what on earth he had been so worried about in the first place.  
  
“Maes?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
Roy took Maes’ hand and pulled it into his lap, staring down at it as he intertwined their fingers.  “… I don’t want to tell Riza and the others just yet.  Maybe Monday, but at least not today.”   
  
It wasn’t merely a matter of wanting to process the incredible turn of events of the past night that prompted Roy to make the request.  He simply wanted to keep the experience to himself for a little while longer before subjecting it to the scrutiny and--in Sheska’s case, most likely--fawning and ogling of their friends.   
  
Simply put, he wanted his relationship with Maes all to himself.  At least for now.  
  
“Whenever you’re ready,” Maes replied with a nod.  “Although if that’s what you really want, then I’m going to have a hell of a time explaining this,” he added, rubbing at the hickey with his free hand.   
  
Roy stared at his handiwork and felt a blush creep into his cheeks as he was bombarded with the memory of how Maes’ skin had felt between his lips…and how other parts of his body had felt between his legs…  
  
“Sorry,” he mumbled, moving their conjoined hands to the side and not so discreetly bundling a section of the comforter in his lap. 

A small, knowing smile bloomed on Maes’ face as he stared down at the comforter.  He leaned forward and placed a soft, chaste kiss on Roy’s forehead before pressing his own against it.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, reluctantly easing away from him and standing up.  “I’m hopping in the shower.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Roy watched him walk out of the room before flopping onto his back and flinging the comforter over his head, inhaling the scent of their combined bodies, embarrassed and overjoyed and horny, all at once.   
  
This was really happening, wasn't it?  Roy and Maes.  Maes and Roy.  _Together._  
  
Amazing.  
  
With a sigh and a smile, the teen pulled the pillow beneath his head and tightly snuggled the comforter around him while he waited for Maes to finish in the bathroom.  He yawned loudly and found his mind wandering back to the broken fragments of his dream, unable to remember anything save for the strange and inexplicable vision of small, blue miniskirts.  
  
Funny things, dreams were.

*****

After thoroughly inspecting his peanut butter and jelly sandwich for any trace of the foul white dairy substance that he had often suspected his mother put into his food any chance she could, Ed bit into it and chewed slowly, relishing the way two seemingly incompatible items combined to taste so _good_. 

He stared around the playground at his classmates, taking in their every move with his perceptive golden eyes while trying to avoid direct contact with any of them.  It was always much preferable to blend in with the scenery than stand apart from it for their entertainment and luckily, the Friday playground lunch periods that all elementary teachers granted their students for good behavior was a perfect way to remain well under their radar.  Usually.  Not that he much cared for his own peace of mind, but rather to avoid the undue stress on his mother for having to be told that her son had, once again, told off the entire classroom with his adorably colorful choice of language.

Ed pushed away the all too familiar sting of loneliness that always lurked just under his façade of steel during times like these and turned his mind to Al, wondering what well-meaning monstrosity the boy was currently creating to bring home and add to the refrigerator display.  Although he would have never admitted it to anyone (well, maybe Roy) he desperately wished that his brother could remain with him throughout the entire day.  Al who, through no other means than by being his sweet self, was a rock for the eight-year-old, more than anyone else.  Sometimes, even more than their mother.  As much grief as he gave the boy--because that’s what big brothers were for--Ed knew that he was lucky to have him.  _Very_ lucky.  Even if he never went so far as to say it. 

He took a sip of his juice (tasting no milk in it as far as he could tell) and continued his silent observation, too caught up in his own watch to notice the pair of inquisitive blue eyes that watched _him_ with equal interest.  Had he noticed them then instead of later… well… one could only speculate how it would have affected certain events soon to come. 

The lunch period passed quickly.  Grateful for avoiding yet another group taunting opportunity, Ed eagerly returned to the classroom, where he began his ritual countdown to the time when he would get to see Roy once again and all would be right with the world. 

At least for a few hours.

*****

As another round of classes filtered out to the playground for their weekly reward, the new student with a penchant for plant life stood by the poor excuse for a makeshift garden, one in which most of the students had planted their discarded trash and, in one corner, a small clan of naked dolls as opposed to what actual half-dead vegetation there was to be found.  Now that the quiet boy with the metal arm was gone, there was little else to distract him from his original goal.  But even so…

Who was he?

How did he get that arm?

… And did he _always_ look so lonely?

Russell Tringham turned back to the disaster before him and set about remedying it as best he could while his mind pondered all of the possibilities of the small metal-limbed boy, completely unaware of just how much the rest of his life was about to be impacted because of that one random playground encounter. 

Funny thing, fate was.

*****

Even at the tender young ages of sixteen and seventeen, when most teenagers would normally blurt out their thoughts and theories with no regard for anything other than satisfying their own need to know, Riza, Sheska, and Jean thankfully possessed enough common sense and decorum not to mention the events of the prior evening, although the question lingered in their eyes for the duration of the school day.  Maes and Roy had barely been able to contain their grins as they felt the eyes of their friends crawling over them for the slightest hint of what might have happened after their departure last night… and Maes’ hickey most certainly did not help to alleviate their curiosity. 

“You know they know, right?” Maes asked, bringing his car to a halt in the Elric’s driveway.

“I know,” Roy said, unbuckling his seatbelt.  “I assume Jean definitely knows since he asked you to drop me off today.”

Maes nodded.  “He’s smarter than he looks.  Sometimes.”  A devious smile broke out on the teen’s face.  “I thought Sheska’s eyes were going to pop right out of her head.  She won’t last another day without asking.”

“No she won’t.”  Roy smiled and shrugged.  “Oh well.  Couldn’t keep it a secret forever.  Honestly, I’m surprised we even made it a day.”

“Me too.”

The two teens sat in silence, listening to the steady idle of the car engine.  Their hands slowly migrated together and joined between the seats.  The warmth of Maes’ touch spread through Roy like wildfire and it was all he could do to keep from grinning over the absolute feeling of giddiness that filled him.  He was still so overwhelmed with happiness that his mind could not even begin to concentrate on much else… and because of that, he had already forgotten about the one very important thing that he’d had every intention of doing.

“You better get going,” Maes said, reluctantly letting him go. 

“Yeah.”  Even though Roy was always happy to see the boys, he was still mildly disappointed.  But it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t see Maes later that evening… or that night… or for the entire _weekend_ for that matter.

“See you.”  Maes leaned across the seat and kissed him gently on the lips.  He turned back to the wheel and grabbed the gear shift to put the car into reverse when--

“Oh shit.”

“Huh?  What is it?”

Roy followed Maes’ gaze through the windshield… and he suddenly remembered the very important thing that he had meant to do.

Only now it was too late.

_“Oh shit.”_

They watched as Ed spun around and ran back into the house without bothering to close the door. Roy’s heart began pounding painfully in his chest as the full weight of his carelessness hit him.  He swallowed hard as the betrayal on Ed’s face etched its way into his mind, burning itself there, most likely forever. 

A few seconds.  A little boy’s entire world, crushed in a few seconds. 

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

*****

“Edward?  Honey, where’s the mail?”

Trisha watched helplessly as her child flew past her and up the stairs.  She instinctively braced herself for the slamming of his bedroom door, but there was nothing more. 

Which, of course, worried her just as much.

She glanced out of the open door and spotted Roy, who stopped walking as soon as he saw her, looking guiltier than she would have ever imagined possible for such an innocent boy.  Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that the car leaving her property was not Jean’s…

“Oh shit.”

This wasn’t good.  It wasn’t good at all. 

“Hi Roy.  Could you grab the mail for me please?” she called out, smiling warmly as the teen obediently turned around and headed back towards the mailbox. 

Trisha stepped back into the house and stared up at the ceiling with a concerned frown.  It was during moments like this when she _almost_ wished that her husband wasn’t such a worthless ass.  Even though she had no real doubts about her own parental aptitude, sometimes she felt as if certain issues with her sons would have been better handled by a man.  First crushes were bad enough, not to mention _same-sex_  crushes; she didn’t even want to _think_ ahead to the day when she would have to discuss sex with them.  And, of course, the only other person she would have ever entrusted to talk to them about those things in such confidence was currently the source of the problem.

Assuming that her son’s actions merely reflected his agitation over Roy’s choice of driver, Trisha sighed deeply and made a note to herself to have a talk with Ed later that night after she returned from work, tragically unaware of exactly what he had seen to prompt such a reaction and how much it had all but extinguished the little light of hope that he had, not only in other people, but himself as well. 

*****

The room wasn’t quite dark enough for his liking, not yet.  But it would have to do, as it had always done before during moments like these, his small, brightly adorned bed once again holding him when he felt that he had no one else to turn to. 

More than anyone, Ed was confounded by his unwillingness to kick and scream and rant and rave over what he had seen.  Any other time, and for any other reason, everything in his wake would have been ravaged by the uncanny strength of his automail arm and leg, camouflaging his pain with fury.  But now… it just didn’t matter. 

How could _anything_ ever matter again after seeing that?

He tightened his grip around the pillow lodged in his arms as the vision of the two of them etched its way into his mind, burning itself there, most likely forever. A small snort of laughter escaped him as he realized just how foolish… how stupid… how utterly childlike he had been to think that somehow… someway… he had been _special_ to Roy, that Roy had actually _liked_ him.  And not just because he _had_ to like him, like his mother and brother, but because… well… because he _wanted_ to. 

He was too numb to cry.  Too numb to yell.  Too numb to do little more than lie there and stare into the space ahead of him.  Unfortunately, he wasn’t too numb to ignore the hurt. 

No… as it turned out, he could feel _that_ just fine.

*****

Roy could feel his nervousness peaking by way of the nausea that settled into his stomach as he stood outside of Ed’s door.  He had gone so far as to let the eight-year-old miss dinner--admittedly for his own comfort as well as Ed’s--but he couldn’t leave things the way they were for the rest of the night.  He needed to clear the air between them, especially since he had every intention of telling Mrs. Elric what had happened when she got home later; try as he might, he just didn’t have the heart to do it before she left for work.

“Ed?”  There was no answer, as expected.  Roy patted his pocket and felt the outline of the bedroom key just under the thick denim of his jeans but as it turned out, he wouldn’t need to resort to using it: the door was unlocked.

He slipped into the dark room and swung the door closed behind him, leaving it just open enough to let in a sliver of hallway light.  There was no light to be found from the nightlight or lamp and, for some reason, this filled Roy with a sad, ominous sense of foreboding.  He could barely make out the lump on top of Ed’s bed and moved towards it, gingerly so as not to trip or fall.  When he felt his knee bump the edge of the bed, he turned around and sat down.  Under any other circumstance, he would have definitely had reservations about sitting on the bed of a young child in the dark, but this was hardly a normal circumstance. 

“Where’s Al?”

Roy smiled thoughtfully at Ed’s inquiry.  As usual, the boy was more concerned about his brother’s whereabouts than his own dilemma. 

“He’s downstairs watching Dora,” Roy answered quietly. 

“Dora’s stupid.”

Roy couldn’t agree more.  But if it made Al happy, then so be it. 

“Listen, Ed.... About… what you saw…”

“--to me.”

“What?”

Almost a full minute passed before Ed repeated himself. 

“You _lied_ to me.”

Roy winced at the sound of his voice, unable to stomach the fact that he was the reason it sounded so  _defeated._  

“No, no I didn’t Ed,” he began, fumbling his way through an explanation.  “Yesterday… when you asked me about Maes… I was telling the truth.  He wasn’t my… I mean... we weren’t _together_ then.  We… got together… last night… _after_ I had already left here.”

He turned and propped a knee up on the edge of the bed.  All potential weirdness aside, Roy was thankful that he couldn’t see Ed’s face; he didn’t think he stood a chance of holding up under the weight of his stare. 

_“I didn’t lie to you,”_ he repeated firmly.  “I would never lie to you, Ed.  Please believe me.”

More silence.  Roy felt a cautious seed of optimism bloom within him.  The silence signified debate, and if Ed was debating what he had said, then he stood a damn good chance of being believed.  And after they had crossed this particularly nasty hurdle, he would find a way to broach the subject of the boy’s affection… although he still had no idea how he was going to do it.  But first and foremost, he had to know--he _needed_ to know--if he still had Ed’s trust.  Without it, everything between them was for naught, all of the progress that they had made, undone by one spectacularly jackass move. 

“… Don’t matter…  _Nothin’_ matters…”

The teen's eyes widened in the darkness.  He had tried to prepare himself for every possible reaction typical of Ed but this was the last thing he had ever suspected.  Hell, even automail to the groin was preferable to this.  During their time together, Roy had grown so accustomed to seeing the child’s immeasurable stubbornness that this new attitude scared the shit out of him. Very much so.

“Ed…”

“Leave me alone.”

Roy gasped at the stark finality of Ed’s words, a small, barely audible whisper that resonated through the room and struck him more than any physical blow ever could.  This broken, seemingly hollowed out shell of a child was not the same Ed who faced his problems with a determined crease of the brow and a hearty string of expletives. 

_And it was all his fault._

He reached out and felt his was along the comforter until he came to Ed’s tiny leg and wrapped his hand around the boy’s calf.  Even though the thick material he could feel the coolness of the automail underneath and he felt a pang in his heart once again as he called to mind the tattered beginnings of Ed’s explanation into its origin from the night before.

Pain. All this kid had ever _known_ was pain.  And there he was, so blinded by his own stupid happiness that he had added right to it.

“Ed.  Please--”

_“Leave me alone.”_

It was the last thing Roy wanted to do, obviously.  And deep down, he knew he was being a bit selfish. Yes, he wanted to make things right with Ed, but he also didn’t want to have to live with the guilt of what had happened for an entire weekend. However, years upon years of having grown-ups force their will upon him made him realize that there was little else he _could_ do until Ed was ready to confront him. 

However long that might take. 

“Okay.”  Roy slowly withdrew his hand.  He stood up and rubbed at his eyes, which had begun stinging for some reason wholly unrelated to the moment, surely. “… I hope we can talk Monday,” he said.

After waiting (and hoping and praying) for any sort of acknowledgment and receiving none, Roy left the room.  He raised a hand and shielded his eyes as the light of the hallway hit him… which was naturally the reason why they began to water slightly.

He made his way downstairs and plopped down next to Al, who had made very short work of an entire pack of cookies during his time with Dora. 

“Is he okay now?” he asked, blinking innocently at him. 

“You know, I bet he’d feel a lot better if you took him some of those,” Roy offered with forced cheer, motioning at the cookies. 

Al glanced down at the pack, debating his love for his brother versus his love of cookies.  Ed won out, perhaps just barely.

“‘Kay!”  The boy patted Roy on the knee and hopped off of the couch.  He reached inside of the pack, pulled out a cookie and handed it to him. 

“Now you feel better too, ‘kay Roy?”

He smiled sweetly and dashed away before Roy could respond… which was just as well because the teen didn’t think he was capable of much else besides sitting there and hating himself.  And _not_ crying. 

It was going to be a very long weekend.


	14. Chapter 14

What a fucking night.  
  
Trisha quietly shut the door to Ed’s room and crept down the hallway, returning to the comfort of her own bed. She had already lost count of how many times she had peeked in on him over the past couple of hours, depriving her own body of some much-needed rest on the off-chance that the boy should happen to need her. She knew better, really; he had always been resilient--if reluctantly, at times--even with the hand that life had so unfairly dealt him. But now she was slowly coming to realize that even the few and far between days of running to Mom during a crisis, emotional or otherwise, were dwindling away with each passing year, never to return. Her “Little Man” would someday become a man of his own and the thought filled her with an incomparable sadness.

She wasn’t mad at Roy for what had happened. The kid couldn’t very well be expected to abstain from living his life just because Ed had a crush on him. Truth be told, Trisha was rather happy that he had found someone (and that Maes was a damn good-looking boy, yes he was). Hell, even if she _had_ been upset, the sheer amount of remorse on his face as he explained how Ed had discovered the two of them kissing would have been punishment enough. She wouldn’t have wished that kind of hurt on anyone.

Well, Hohenheim, perhaps. But no one else.

Unfortunately, this was all part of a journey that Ed had to take on his own; she couldn’t kiss it and make it go away. And although she _did_ briefly consider asking Roy to lay low for about a week or so, it wouldn’t have done anything to ease her son's broken heart. In fact, it would have very likely made the whole situation even worse. Besides, that would have been unfair to Al. He loved Roy too, in his own precious little way.

No, there just weren’t going to be any easy answers with this one. None whatsoever.

The worried mother sighed and closed her eyes. She settled into the cool sheets that surrounded her, wishing like hell that she had a cigarette, praying for the happiness of _both_ her babies, and waiting for a slumber that was not soon to come.

*****

Maes could see the fire from the kitchen window as it lit the night sky. He couldn’t begin to understand Roy’s fascination with it; the entire concept of pyromania was a bit of a mystery to him. But it was what it was, and since it was a part of Roy, Maes just accepted it without question.

He spotted him sitting just in front of the blaze with a blanket wrapped around him and  felt a bittersweet pang of love and sadness. They hadn’t talked about what had happened earlier but it was still there, hanging in the air around them since they returned home. Sure, in the grand scheme of life, a little boy with a crush wasn’t the biggest deal on earth. But hurting Ed had hurt Roy in a big way, and Maes hated feeling so goddamn helpless about it.

He turned away from the window and walked over to the fridge, opening it and peeking inside. After deciding that the situation called for more than a mere can of soda, Maes grabbed two bottles of beer and twisted off the caps, then eased his way out of the back door to join Roy.

“Mind if I sit?”

Roy glanced up at him and smiled softly. “No.”

Maes felt the knot of apprehension around his heart ease just a bit; if Roy was still smiling, that was a good sign. He sat down next to him and crossed his long legs, handing the teen a beer and taking a generous drink of his own.

“I’m an asshole, Maes.”

“Nah.” Maes nudged Roy on the arm for emphasis. “It was just really shitty timing. And that’s just as much _my_ fault as it is yours.”

Roy shook his head as he stared into the flames. “But I should have… I should have known better. I just wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re right, you _weren’t_ thinking,” Maes said, to Roy’s gaping horror. Before the teen could respond, he continued. “You were just reacting. And it’s not that I don’t feel for the kid because I _do_ , okay? First crushes fucking  _suck_. But... I just think… you know… that maybe you shouldn’t think too much about doing… whatever comes naturally… if that makes any sense. I don’t know… I feel like I’m fucking rambling here.”

Roy took in the depth of Maes’ words and sighed in resignation. “Yeah,” he reluctantly admitted.

“Yeah, I’m rambling or yeah, I’m making sense?”

“Both.”

“Thanks.”  
  
Maes felt the last of his apprehension slip away, banished by the melodic sound of Roy’s chuckling. It was a lovely sound, indeed, and he could have easily listened to it forever.

“I’m ruining the mood, huh?  I'm sorry,” Roy said, taking a sip from his bottle and resting his head on Maes’ shoulder.

Maes wanted to tell him not to be ridiculous, that just being able to be there with him like this--after months upon months of merely wishing it could happen--was good enough. He wanted to tell him just how happy he was and how these were some of the moments in his life that he wouldn’t trade for all of the sex in the world, which, for him, was saying _a lot._

“Don’t worry about it,” he said instead, wrapping his arm around Roy’s lower back.

They sat in contented silence as the fire roared on. Maes polished off his beer as well as the half that Roy didn’t finish, and let out a most resounding belch that echoed around them.

“Pig,” Roy said with a grin.

“Yeah, but you still love me,” Maes replied sheepishly.

Roy sighed again and nodded slowly against his shoulder.

“… Yeah.”

They remained there for another hour, during which time the couple debated such life-altering topics as whether or not the usage of quality aged liquor as a combustible constituted alcohol abuse, and why Playgirl’s articles far surpassed those of Maxim. When the fire began to wane, Roy grabbed Maes by the hand and weaved their fingers together, yet another thing Maes would never grow tired of experiencing.

“Hey, Maes.”

“Hm?”

A slight blush colored Roy’s face as he kept his head down and his eyes focused on their intertwined hands.

“… Let’s go to bed.”

Maes blinked at Roy. For a long time.

“Okay,” he finally said.

And so they did.

*****

At no point in Ed’s life did he ever think he would be so thankful to go to school. However, the past two days had proven to be so unbearable that today he welcomed the place with open arms; it was _that_ bad.

He loved his mother and brother dearly, that went without saying (and normally did). But if he would have had to endure one more not-so-covert glance or well-meaning cookie or potato chip shoved in his face, Ed was fairly positive he would have screamed bloody murder. Forever.

He knew that they were just trying to be helpful. He knew that his mother knew what had happened. Well, he _assumed_ that she knew. And Al… well, Al was just being Al. Any other time, all of it would have been fine and good, but this wasn’t any other time. This wasn’t about a bunch of stupid asshole kids calling him names, which was shitty enough. This wasn’t even about his stupid asshole father, which was, admittedly, even worse. This was about Roy. And _because_ it was about Roy, Ed hurt in a way he had never known was possible. That last thing he wanted on _top_ of that was to know that he was once again worrying his family… who was, in turn, driving him completely crazy with their worrying.

Ignoring the cringe-inducing snickering of Rose and Noa, two of the most annoying girls in his class--and twins to boot--Ed sat down at his desk and waited patiently for the day to begin. He gingerly rested his arms on top of his small desk, as always, instinctively taking great care to avoid doing anything that would cause his automail to clunk about and draw attention to him. He kept his eyes averted from the others as his classmates filtered in, again by sheer force of habit, although today he didn’t particularly give a damn what any of them had to say.

After taking the attendance, Ed’s teacher solicited an errand runner to deliver a note to the principal’s office and the young boy dutifully raised his hand. Not that he was aching to be helpful; Ed honestly had no idea _why_ he volunteered. The teacher called out his name, more out of shock than meaning to select him, and Ed jumped out of his seat and took the envelope from her before she had a chance to rescind the offer.

He took his time strolling down the hallway, with every intention of dragging out the trip as long as he could. It also gave him ample opportunity to wonder just how things were going to go that afternoon… and if Roy would even bother showing up at all. Ed wanted to think that he wouldn’t care either way, and that would be the story he stuck with if asked. But he _did_ care. How could he not? Even if Roy and Mace-- _Maes_ \--were together now, he still wanted to see him. Any Roy, even one that would never be his, was better than none at all.

Ed walked into the office and obediently took a seat along the wall as he waited for the principal’s secretary to finish talking on the phone. The conversation sounded dreadfully boring and Ed occupied himself by looking at all of the god-awful paintings on the walls. It was surreal to be sitting there on “official” business for once instead of the usual trips he had made there for disciplinary action; even the secretary raised a brow at his unaccompanied presence.

Just as she hung up the phone and summoned him, the door to the principal’s office opened and a young blond boy walked out with the man himself. He saw Ed and gasped, to everyone’s astonishment, and dashed over to him, grabbing him by the right arm and raising it high.

“I pick him!” the boy announced, turning to the principal.

Ed was so completely caught off guard that it didn’t even register in his shocked mind to be aghast at having his automail handled so freely.

“What?” he asked.

The boy turned back to Ed and lowered his hand. “I’m picking you.”

“Picking me?  For what?”

“Garden duty,” the boy said proudly. “I get to pick someone to help me and I pick you.”

The principal exchanged an uncomfortable glance with his assistant.  “W-Well… okay… as long as it’s alright with Edward,” he said. “I’ll call Ms. Shepherd and let her know where you are.”

Ed’s head was whirling. He didn’t know who this kid was or what he was up to. What he _did_ know, though, was that he was vehemently _un_ opposed to anything that would keep him out of the classroom.

“Um… sure.”

The boy smiled happily. “Okay. Come on, then.”

“… Okay.”

Still stupefied, but now also equally intrigued, Ed gave the envelope to the secretary and followed his apparent captor out of the office…

*****

… and onto the playground, where the two boys made their way over to the dilapidated garden.

“Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning we’re gonna get to come out here for thirty minutes to do garden work,” the boy explained, kneeling down and picking through the dead foliage. “Unless we have a test or something.”

Ed couldn’t have been more stunned if Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy had just dropped out of the sky bearing toys, chocolate, and cash. Being _allowed_ to skip part of class? That was just crazy talk.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because we would fail,” the boy said, wrinkling his brow at him.

“No,” Ed shook his head. “I mean, why the garden?”

_“Ohhh.”_

The boy smiled sweetly at his gaffe and Ed had to stop himself from taking a step back.  It was so unlike anything he had ever seen from anyone other than Al or his mother.  Could it be...?

Could it be that this kid was actually… nice?

“I like plants,” the boy informed him, gesturing at the garden. “And this looks like crap, so I asked if I could fix it.”

Being given permission from the principal to miss schoolwork to plant some flowers, huh?  Ed’s amazement was complete. He knelt down and watched as the boy fumbled around, unsure of what else to say or do.

Luckily for him, he didn’t have to put much more thought into it.

“So your name’s Edward?”

“Ed, yeah.” Ed looked up and saw the boy watching him carefully. And for once, he didn’t feel any discomfort in staring back. “What’s your name?”

“Russell.”

“I don’t… I don’t know about plantin’ stuff,” Ed confessed, reaching down and plucking out one of the legion of half buried naked dolls. “I mean, I don’t know what to do,” he clarified.

Russell smiled again and offered him a carefree shrug. “‘S’alright. I’ll help you,” he promised. “Could you take all of those out first?” he asked, motioning at the naked brigade.

Ed nodded eagerly and set about uprooting each doll, vaguely wondering what kind of idiot would do something like that, while Russell spelled out their game plan.

“I don’t know what I want to plant yet,” he said, amassing a neat pile of brown leaves beside him. “They won’t buy me anything but I got permission to take donations from other kids to buy stuff.” He casually picked up a grasshopper and set it on the grass, effectively creeping out Ed to no end. “But I’m not gonna ask those jerks for nothing,” he continued. “You know what they call me?” he asked, stopping to look at Ed.

“What?” Ed asked.

“... Flower fag,” Russell said, whispering the last word even though there was no one else remotely within earshot of them.

Ed felt a stab of guilt at the word he had not too long ago used himself. He shook his head in disbelief--disbelief over the situation itself _and_ disbelief that he apparently wasn’t the only one to feel the wrath of the collective. Russell was a normal kid as far as he could tell; why the hell would they care if he wanted to make their dingy playground look a little nicer?

“Assholes,” he muttered under his breath, unaware that he had even cursed until after he said it. “Sorry,” he added.

“‘Never apologize for telling the truth,’” Russell said with an air of righteousness. “At least, that’s what my mom says.”

In a child’s delightfully naïve way of misunderstanding, Ed missed the true point of Russell’s mother’s words of wisdom and was instead utterly mystified that _any_ parent would not demand that their kid apologize for swearing:

“Really?  My mom just sends me to my room.”

The boys continued working in silence and Ed found himself pleased with the progress they were making. It wasn’t the most exciting task, cleaning up other people’s crap, but… it wasn’t half-bad. Thanks to the company. If nothing else, it helped to keep his mind off his heartache; he hadn’t even thought about Roy once since Russell’s impromptu recruitment in the principal’s office.

“Do you like it here?” he asked timidly. It felt like a stupid question, especially considering what Russell had just divulged, but he still wanted to know.

“Eh. Better than being home-schooled.”

_Home-schooled?_ Ed had heard of the phenomenon of being able to stay at home for school but he had never known of anyone lucky enough to have partaken in such a thing. “That sounds cool,” he said, digging out the last doll and placing it on top of the stack of other nude plastic bodies.

“It was okay. No big deal.” Russell pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket and began placing the dead leaves inside of it.

No big deal? Being able to go to school at home sounded like a _very_ big deal to Ed.  
  
Russell offered him the bag, and he gathered up the dolls and deposited them. Only then did he notice the boy staring thoughtfully at his right hand and he quickly pulled it away and folded his arms across his chest, his face growing hot from the blush that rose to the surface.  
  
He should have known, he just _should have known_ that this was too good to be true! He was a fool to think that this kid was actually any different from the others--

“I like your arm.”

The tirade in Ed’s mind came to a screeching halt. It seemed as if the world itself did too.

“What?”

Russell looked away shyly. “I like your arm,” he repeated, furrowing his brow as he concentrated on tying the bag of trash.

Ed was floored by his admission. “… You do?”

“Yeah.” Russell fidgeted with the side of the bag. After a moment, he reluctantly raised his head and smiled at Ed for a third time.

This time, Ed smiled back.

*****

“Jean, you’re driving me fucking batshit. Why don’t you just go ahead and ask? You know you want to.”

Roy glared across the seat at Jean, whose eyes were locked on the road ahead of him, a cigarette dangling precariously out of the side of his mouth, as per the norm.

“It’s none of my business,” the teen said, risking a glance at Roy. “Besides, you’re not gonna tell me.”

“Suit yourself.” Roy turned to look out of the car window--

_“Did you and Maes do it?”_

\--and burst out laughing at his friend’s desperate query.

They had finally come clean with the others about their relationship, in what Riza dubbed “the worst kept secret ever.” Additionally, she was quick to take full credit for getting Roy and Maes together since it was her well-plotted game of Truth or Dare that started the whole chain reaction. And now, with that less than stunning revelation out of the way, the next question, obviously, was whether or not they had finally done the deed. The gang had even taken bets on the subject, with Riza voting a definitive yes, Sheska voting a definitive no, and Jean voting a definitive I-have-no-idea.

Roy was relieved to have it all out in the open… at least, among his friends. And while he and Maes weren’t quite ready to go strolling hand in hand down the hallways or anything near that extreme, it was a start. And a damn good one, at that.

“Why do you guys want to know so badly?” he asked, turning back to Jean and stealing the cigarette out of his mouth. “I mean, I guess I get why Riza and Sheska want to know--they’re fucking perverts. But _you?_ Is there something you’re not telling me?” Roy smirked, taking a drag and cracking his window to let out the smoke.

“Oh fuck you, Mustang.”

“You wish.”

“I was just curious, that’s all,” Jean said, lighting a fresh cigarette. “It’s not like I imagine you two doin’ it or something like that.”

“You totally do.”

“Seriously, _fuck you_.” Jean grinned as he exhaled a stream of smoke from his nostrils. “You know I’m all about the pussy.”

“I think you have to be _getting_ the pussy to be all about it,” Roy pointed out, and was promptly rewarded with a jab in the thigh.

“Get out of my car, dick,” Jean said, pulling onto the Elric’s property. He reclaimed his pilfered cigarette and put it out in the ashtray. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See ya.” Roy climbed out of the car and chuckled at Jean’s parting “wave,” which consisted of a middle finger and nothing more. He watched until the car was out of sight, taking along with it all of his happy thoughts and leaving behind the most paralyzing sense of trepidation he had ever felt. He began the slow walk to the front door, pretending that he did not just see the curtains flutter.

Before he could knock, as he was seriously considering calling Jean to come back and pick him up, Trisha opened the door and greeted him.

“Hi Roy,” she said warmly, stepping back so that he could enter the house.

So far so good.

_“_ _ROY_ _!!!”_  
  
Al bolted down the stairs--damn near giving his mother _and_ Roy a heart attack when he almost tripped over his tiny zealous feet--and dived into the teen’s arms, hugging him tightly.

Even better.

“Hey, Al,” Roy said, breathing in the boy’s scent, which was just about as sweet as he was.

He caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and discovered Ed standing in the kitchen doorway, watching the heartwarming scene with blank expression. Until that moment, Roy wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected when he saw Ed again, but this… _showdown_ of sorts definitely wasn’t it.

“Hi, Ed.”

“… ‘lo.”

It wasn’t audible for shit, and he probably only said _that_ much because Trisha was standing there, but still, Roy was relieved for the acknowledgment. He offered Ed a small smile of gratitude, at which the boy did an about-face and returned to the kitchen, closing the door behind him. It stung Roy, the silent rebuff, but he completely understood. As far as he was concerned, he deserved far worse.  
  
He carried Al over to the sofa and sat down to hear all about the youngster’s day while Trisha finished getting ready for work, wondering in the back of his mind if that would be the worst of his evening where Ed was concerned.

In retrospect, Roy realized that he _really_ should have known better.


	15. Chapter 15

Things had gone smoothly, if somewhat tensely, for the first couple of hours.  Roy and Al had gotten some light cleaning done around the house; it was something the teen found he rather enjoyed doing for Trisha, even if he wasn’t exactly crazy about doing it in his own home. They had also managed to collaborate on a surprisingly halfway decent picture of the boys and their mother.  All the while, Ed stalked in and out of his bedroom, glowering at Roy and barely saying a word to either of them.  Roy supposed that if a little stink eye was all he had to contend with for the rest of the night, he should consider himself lucky, given all of the possible alternatives. 

Then came dinner…

*****

“How long do you think it’ll take for Roy to save up enough cash to buy his own car?” Jean asked Maes as he chomped away on a slice of pizza, giving no thought whatsoever to the appropriateness and attractiveness of talking with his mouth full of food.

Maes helped himself to a third slice from the box nestled between them; honestly, that pizza joint should be paying _him_ for keeping them in business. He stretched out his long legs and leaned back against the couch, sparing the television a brief glance before taking Jean’s question into consideration.

“No idea,” he said. “Five, six months maybe? Why? Tired of driving him around?”

“Nah, nothing like that. I was just wondering.” Jean plucked a piece of pepperoni off of his pizza and popped it into his mouth. “It just seems like he might actually keep doing this babysitting thing after he gets one.”

Maes polished off his slice and grabbed Jean’s cigarettes. He lit two and handed one to his friend.  “Yeah, I think he’ll keep doing it."

“He really likes those kids,” Jean pointed out.

Maes took a deep drag off of his cigarette. “Their mom’s pretty cool, too.”

“She is,” Jean agreed. “And, you know, it doesn’t hurt that she’s smokin’ hot.”

Maes laughed at the teen’s blunt, testosterone-driven honesty. “Then why don’t you marry her?”

“Dude, if she would have me, I totally would.” Jean ground out the cigarette and grabbed another one, well ahead of Maes, who was only half done with his first. “I’d be a kick-ass husband. And dad too, I guess.”

“You couldn’t be any worse than the one they have now,” Maes observed.

“You met the dad?”

“I met the dad,” Maes concurred, taking a sip from his can of soda. “And… never mind.”

“What?” Jean’s eyes went wide with shock and curiosity. _“What?!”_

“Nothing,” Maes insisted. “The guy’s just a fucking douchebag, is all.”

That _wasn’t_ all, but there was no need to go into the details of what was said and done on that not-so-long-ago night. “So how’s the woman hunt going for you these days?” he asked, eager to shift the focus of the conversation. “Anything new with... what's her name... Marsha?  Mary?”

Jean snorted into his drink. “ _Maria._   And you tell me. She wants _your_ dick, not mine.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Maes smiled cheekily and pushed up his glasses. Apparently, falling in love hadn’t fully extinguished the teen’s rampant hubris, after all. “I'm sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” Jean said.

“No, I’m not,” Maes agreed.

“Slut,” Jean muttered.

“Nah.” Maes shook his head. “I’m retired now.”

Jean nodded in agreement. “You damn well better be. Now go fetch me another soda, bitch.”

“Sure thing.” Maes grabbed the pizza box and stood up. He kicked Jean hard in the thigh--

_“Ow, goddammit!”_

\--and walked into the kitchen. After shoving the box into the garbage can--he really needed to empty that soon--Maes snatched two cans of soda from the fridge and returned to the living room, tossing one to Jean before hopping onto the couch behind him. They cracked open their drinks and chugged them, then each let out their own ear-shattering belches.

“That was weak,” Maes said.

“ _You’re_ weak,” Jean countered, trying again.

Maes smirked and picked up the remote. He began flipping through scores of channels in an effort to find something worth watching while they passed the time.

“You know… I’m glad…” Jean's voice trailed off.

Maes paused his search and blinked at the back of Jean’s head… and was it just him or was the kid’s hair a fucking bird’s nest?  How the hell did he get a brush through that damn thing? “You’re glad?” he asked, poking him in the shoulder.  "About what?"

“I’m glad that you two are together.”

Maes closed his eyes and smiled thoughtfully, thankful that Jean couldn’t see the depth of the gratitude on his face. Although he would never be one to care what most people thought, hearing his friend’s approval meant more to him than he realized. “Thanks,” he said softly.

“Yep,” Jean replied. The teen tilted his head and gazed at the television for a moment, and then asked Maes the question that had been plaguing him the most:

“What _the fuck_ are we watching?”

*****

Roy sampled a spoonful of the stew one last time and nodded in approval.  It was more than edible; it was actually pretty damn good.  If nothing else, he felt that he was becoming a regular master of the kitchen given all of the cooking he did for the boys.  He smiled to himself as he theorized making a fine wife for someone one day.  Well, not just _any_ someone, but the _only_ someone who mattered.

Pushing aside all thoughts of domesticity with Maes, Roy donned a pair of embarrassingly flower-ridden oven mitts and grabbed the large pot from the stove, where it had been simmering for the past hour.  He brought it into the dining room and set it down on the table, yelling for Ed and Al while he did so. 

One didn’t need to call Alphonse Elric twice for a meal; the child was in his seat before Roy removed the second mitt, ogling the pot and clutching his spoon.  It was so ridiculously cute that Roy couldn’t help but grin.  If there was a sweeter kid on the face of the earth, he would have to see it to believe it.

Ed, on the other hand…

“Something _stinks_.”

… not so much with the sweetness.

The boy trudged into the dining room and made a patented Edward Elric production of sniffing the air and scowling his disapproval.  Roy was a little stung by the unwarranted reaction even though he knew it was simply Ed being Ed; even so, he had worked really hard on the damn stuff and didn’t appreciate the kid shitting all over his effort.

“Stop it, Brother!” 

Roy felt somewhat vindicated by Al’s horror over Ed’s assessment of the meal.  Wisely deciding not to engage the feisty eight-year-old, he quietly dished out portions for all of them and took a seat next to Al.

Of course, one did not--and  _could_ not--ignore Ed if Ed chose not to be ignored.

“There’s milk in this,” he announced, scrunching his nose over the bowl. 

“Yes,” Roy replied calmly.  “It’s your mother’s recipe--that’s hot, Al, give it a minute--so you should already know that.”

“You _like_  Mom’s stew,” Al pointed out to his brother while crumbling a rather large number of crackers into the bowl.  “You always say you would eat it every day if you could.”  He fanned away the steam rising from his bowl with one tiny crumb-covered hand.  “You _know_ she puts milk in it all the time, silly.”

“Oh, shut up,” Ed snapped.

“ _You_ shut up!” Al shot back, much to Roy’s inner amusement. 

“Stop it, both of you,” he said, trying to sound firm.  He supposed he should have suspected a little lip from Ed but even so--

 _“Make me!”_ Ed challenged his little brother, flinging a handful of crackers across the table at him.

Al’s look of shock would have almost been comical if not so genuine.  “You… you… _j-jerk!!_ ” he screamed, heaving his spoon at Ed, who blocked it in just enough time to avoid being hit in the head.

Although Roy would look back on the what happened next in achingly slow detail--funny how that always happened with memories most unwanted--the actual sequence of events took place in a mere manner of seconds.  He would remember with stunning clarity the dawning of _real_ anger on Ed’s face over Al’s rare and impromptu defiance, as well as the way his small hands blindly happened upon the first thing they touched and launched it at his heretofore docile younger sibling.  Perhaps most of all, Roy would remember the sheer, seething pain of taking a piping hot bowl of Mrs. Elric’s finest recipe right in the face as he attempted to shield said docile younger sibling from the impact. 

Yes indeed, he would remember that all too well.

 _“_ _Roy?!  Roy?! ROY_ _!!!”_  

“I’m _alright_ , Al,” Roy said through clenched teeth, resisting the urge to snatch himself away from the panicked and screaming boy now clinging to his arm.  “I’m alright,” he repeated, trying to reassure him.

But dear Lord God, he wasn’t alright.  He wasn’t alright _at all._  

He slowly peeled himself from the child’s death clutch and wiped as much of the stew off of his face as he could before prying open his eyes, although squinting was about all he could manage for the moment.  “I’ll be right back,” he said, standing upright.  Roy could feel Ed’s terrified gaze on him and shrugged it off; it was best for all of them if he didn’t acknowledge him just yet. 

Honestly, though, he wasn’t all that sure he wanted to acknowledge Ed ever again.

Roy stumbled his way into the bathroom--

_“Ed, where’re you goin'?!”_

\--and over to the sink, turning on the cold water full blast and ducking his face under the pouring stream.  He supposed he ought to be somewhat worried about the slamming of the front door but he couldn’t bring himself to feel much of anything right now where Ed was concerned.  True enough, Ed’s actions were only a gut reaction as opposed to outright malice, but still, Roy had had enough.  He was done.  He couldn’t put up with this shit anymore.

He _wouldn’t._

*****

Ed sat on the front step, hunched over with his face buried in his folded arms, weeping uncontrollably and hating himself once again.

He had hurt Roy. 

He had _really_ hurt Roy. 

Of course he hadn’t _meant_ to do it.  But Al just _had_ to go and throw something at him!  Okay, so he had thrown crackers first but that was _beside_ the point.  Everything would have been fine if he hadn’t gone and butted in when Ed was trying to give Roy a hard time.  He had given Roy trouble so much in the past, Al should have known to just shut the hell up and let him do it without opening his stupid mouth!

Shame and revulsion and nausea surged through Ed, making him dizzy.  He couldn’t go back into that house.  Not after this.  He would run all the way to Miss Pinako’s house if he had to, but he just couldn’t face either one of them right now.  More so, he was fairly certain that his presence wouldn’t be missed one bit. 

Ed tried to think of something,  _anything_ to ease his tortured conscience.  There was always his infinitely patient mother, but he suspected there would be very little in the way of that infinite patience once she found out what he did.  There was Russell, who thought his automail was actually cool unlike the other kids at school, but why would he want to be friends with someone who went around flinging hot things when they were upset?  There was… well… nothing.  No person, no thing. 

He was all alone.

*****

Roy shut off the water and peered into the mirror at his wet, blotchy reflection.  He grabbed a hand towel hanging from the bar near the sink and gently wiped his face dry.  He could still feel heat emanating from his skin but it was a little better than it was before.  Worse yet now was the splitting headache that he had, one part the aftereffect of the scalding and one part barely repressed fury.  He opened the medicine cabinet and spotted a bottle of children’s chewable aspirin on the top shelf.  It would have to do.

He grabbed the bottle and shook four into his hand without even bothering to read the dosing instructions; since they were for kids, four looked about right to him.  He tossed them into his mouth and chewed away, cringing at the ersatz fruity flavor.  As he returned the bottle to the shelf, he noticed the all too familiar butt of a cigarette protruding from behind a box of bandages; had his mood been a little lighter, the sight of Mrs. Elric’s secret addiction would have made him smile.  Now, he was just grateful it was there.  Not that he needed the cigarette--no, not at all. 

He needed the fire.

“Roy?”

Roy closed the cigarette into his fist and shut the cabinet.  In the mirror’s reflection, he could see Al’s pale, worried face staring at his back and just like that, he felt _some_ of the weight of his anguish fall away from him. 

“E-Ed… he… he w-went outside… and it’s gettin’ d-dark… a-and…”

Roy turned around and went over to Al before the first of his tears could fall.  “I’ll go get him,” he said, kneeling down and placing his free hand on top of the boy’s downturned head.  “It’s nothing to worry about, okay?” 

Al rubbed at his eyes and looked up into Roy’s, and it was precisely at that moment that the teen realized why adults sometimes lied to children.  “I want you to go eat your dinner, okay?  We’ll be in in a little bit.”

“…‘Kay.”

Roy stood up and ruffled Al’s hair.  “Go on,” he instructed him, nodding towards the door.  Al obediently left the bathroom and Roy sighed deeply, wondering once again why every kid couldn’t be so good and so trusting.  But then again, that wasn’t really fair, though, was it?  Who was to say that Al wouldn’t have turned out an intolerable brat if he’d had Ed’s share of issues?  It wasn’t Ed’s fault that he had lost and arm and a leg--at least as far as he knew.  And it wasn’t Ed’s fault for being most likely gay.  Having to endure those things at such a young age would wreak havoc on anyone’s personality.

_I’m defending him after all of this shit. Un-fucking-believable._

Roy shook his head and exited the room.  He walked through the living room and stopped at the door, sighing again.  After giving himself a moment to gather his thoughts--and making a quick promise to himself not to kill the kid if he could help it--he opened the door and stepped outside.

*****

He sat down beside him on the step, taking no measures to even acknowledge he was there.  Instead, Roy jammed the stolen cigarette into his mouth and pulled a lighter out of his pocket.  He lit the cigarette and stared into the flame of the Zippo, gleaning whatever small sense of peace he could from its soothing light.  He closed the lighter and exhaled, then ground out the cigarette and lit it again.  Since he had sworn that he would never start a real fire there, this was the best he could do until he got home.

His constant relighting finally caught Ed’s attention.  The boy watched him through reddened eyes, captivated by what he was doing.  Great.  The last thing Roy wanted was to look like a freak show and he wasn’t anxious in the least to discuss his fire habit with Ed. 

“I figured you would've run away by now,” he muttered, igniting the cigarette one last time before pocketing the lighter.  He peeked at him and saw the blush beneath his tear-stained cheeks; maybe he had intended to do just that?

Ed whipped his head back to the front and stared down at his hands, and Roy saw a fresh tear fall into his lap.  He looked away, cursing the overwhelming pang in his heart.  
  
“Don’t you dare cry, you little jerk. That’s not fair.”

“… Sorry.”

The young man’s mind was a jumble of things, things he probably should say, things he definitely should _not_ say, questions and accusations, and all of it, clashing together and ultimately rendering him a confused, angry, sad, and reluctantly sympathetic mess. 

“I know,” he began, feeling his way through every word that breached his lips.  “I know that you’re sorry… and I know that you didn’t mean to do it… and I know that I don’t have to tell you what could've happened to Al if you hadn’t hit _me_ instead.”  He paused to let his words sink in; the kid deserved _some_ guilt tripping, after all. 

Roy crushed the cigarette under his shoe and set it aside.  He ran his hand along the top of his head, which still had yet to recover from the scissors “mishap” that had claimed a considerable chunk of his hair. 

He went on, “What I don’t know… I guess… is all of this… fucking… _attitude_ …”  He paused, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing a hand to his temple; that children’s aspirin wasn’t working for shit.  “Is it because you _hate_ me?  Or because you…”

He let the question trail off, unsure of how to finish.  Well, no, he knew precisely _how_ to finish.  He just wasn’t sure that he should.  It seemed entirely too awkward to be sitting on the front step with an eight-year-old kid discussing such things.  Plus, he really didn’t want to hurt Ed anymore than he already had, which was the root of this whole shitty ordeal to begin with. 

“I don’t know what to do here, Ed,” he said quietly.  “I mean… you know… I can deal with most of the stuff you do because it’s a part of who you are and… I actually… kinda… _like_ that side of you.”

“… You do?”

“Of course, I do.”  Roy smiled in spite of himself.  “If you weren’t kicking my ass every day, I’d totally be bored to death.”  He gave Ed a sidelong glance and curled his hand into a tight fist, fighting against the urge to wipe away the last of the tears that slipped from the boy’s eyes.  “But if… if it’s all just because I’m making you miserable, then… then I would rather not come around anymore.  Not because I don’t _want_ to… but… because… I don’t..."  He gritted his teeth in agitation and tried again.  "I don’t want to be the reason that you’re so pissed off all the time.”

It was Roy’s turn now to blush and look at the ground, wondering if he had said the right thing.  Was it too much?  Was it not enough?  This wasn’t something as cut and dry as warning the boy off of Hohenheim’s blatant ignorance; this time, Roy was at a complete loss.

“Forget it,” he said with a wave of the hand.  “I’m not making much sense right now, I don’t think.  Look, let’s just go back in the house--”

Roy froze as the small head came to a rest against the side of his arm.  It felt so warm and fragile compared to the rest of the upper right side of his body, which permeated his skin with its coolness. 

“Don’t…” Ed’s voice was little more than a whisper, but Roy heard it loud and clear.

“Don’t what?”

Ed let out a small sigh.  “Don't leave.”

Roy gazed down at Ed’s blond hair and frowned as he furiously blinked away the stinging in his eyes.  The corner of his mouth curved ever so slightly and he shook his head in defeat.  
  
Just like that.  
  
Yet again, did he ever _really_ have a choice where Ed was concerned?

 “...Okay.”

They remained there a little while longer, watching the last remnants of light fade away.  Eventually, Roy led Ed into the house, where they found that Al had successfully managed to eat half a pot of stew on his own.  The teen was cautiously optimistic that this outburst somehow marked the last of the discomfort between them because of his relationship with Maes... and as it turned out, he was right. 

What Roy could not have possibly foreseen, however, was the discomfort soon to come between him and Maes because of Ed.


	16. Chapter 16

“Hey, Roy, could you grab one of these for me?”

Roy stopped spreading a somewhat obscene amount of mayonnaise on the club sandwich that he was currently making to peek over his shoulder and saw Maes trying desperately to balance five six-packs of beer in his arms.  He put down the knife and walked over to him with a calculating grin as he momentarily contemplated leaving the teen to his own devices.

“Why don’t you just leave some of them in the fridge until we need them?” he asked, breaking down and taking two of the six-packs from him.  

“Because no one ever wants to get off their ass and come in here to get anything,” Maes explained, nudging the refrigerator door closed with his foot.  “So I’m just gonna throw them in a cooler and be done with it.”

Roy couldn’t argue with his logic; they were all pretty lazy when it came to that kind of thing.  

“Why are you making a sandwich?” Maes asked, eyeballing Roy’s creation.  

“Because I’m sick of pizza.”  Roy placed the beer on the counter and finished slathering a slice of bread.  “I swear that place ought to pay _us_ for all the business we're giving them.”

Maes smiled at Roy’s suggestion--a thought he’d had himself just that past week--and put down the remaining six-packs.  He swooped in behind Roy and wrapped his arms around the young man’s waist.  

“That looks kind of good,” he noted, resting his chin on Roy’s left shoulder. 

Roy moved his head to the side and tried not to shudder as Maes’ facial hair tickled his neck.  It was hard _not_ to imagine the way it felt grazing over every inch of his skin but it wouldn’t do him a bit of good to think about _that_ just yet since they were about to have company.

“Damn right it does,” he agreed.  “You want one?”

“Sure,” Maes said eagerly, never having been one to turn down food if at all possible.  “But don’t put so much damn mayo on mine because that’s just kinda gross.” 

“Hey, kiss my ass.”

“Okay.”

Without warning, Maes spun Roy around and planted his hands on the counter behind him, effectively trapping him where he stood.  He leaned forward, slowly easing in for a kiss--

“That’s not my _ass_ , ass,” Roy said.  He playfully wiped a dab of mayonnaise on the tip of Maes’ nose and turned back to his sandwich.  Maes cringed at the cold goop and scooped it off with his finger.  He then smeared it on Roy’s cheek and bolted over to the other side of the kitchen before the teen could retaliate any further.  

“Prick,” Roy muttered, grabbing a towel and wiping his face clean.

“Prick _lover_ ,” Maes replied coyly, folding his arms and leaning against the wall behind him.

Having no valid argument against that particular assessment, Roy sighed in defeat and stuck the knife in the mayo jar, whereupon he finally completed his work of art.  He grabbed two fresh slices of bread and proceeded to make a sandwich for Maes, all the while trying not to succumb to his lover's disgustingly apt wiles.   

He failed, of course.

“God, I hate your fucking guts,” he said, grinning in spite of himself.  

“I can tell.”

“Shut up before I spit in your sandwich.”

“Like I care…”   

Maes casually shrugged at Roy’s attempt at gaining the upper hand… then narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the young man, trying to measure the depth of his seriousness.  The kid was impossible to read sometimes and unfortunately, he knew Maes’ silly little quirks all too well.  

“… but really, don’t do that, okay?”

“Are you serious?”  Roy peered at Maes in disbelief.  “You’ll _swallow my cum_ but the thought of my spit grosses you out?”  

“Oh, I have no problem swallowing just about _any_ of your bodily fluids,” Maes said with a wink.  “As long as you’re not using them as a condiment.”

“Yeah, I can’t say that I’m dying to have spit or jizz from _either of you_ in my fucking food,” Jean quipped from the doorway, bearing four steaming boxes of pizza and a couple of bags of chips.  He entered the kitchen and placed everything on the stove while Roy lowered his head in embarrassment and Maes merely laughed his ass off.  

The teen lit a cigarette and stared at the couple, slowly shaking his head in mock disappointment.  “Perverts.”

“What?”  Sheska merrily bounded into the kitchen, almost knocking Jean flat on his face.  “Who’s a pervert?”

“Everyone in this room, I would imagine,” Riza answered, following behind her.  She walked over to Roy and ruffled his hair, then looked down at the sandwich in progress.  “Ooooh.  Make me one?” she pleaded, batting her eyelashes. 

“Me too!” Sheska demanded before belching, having already chugged half a bottle of beer.   

“I’m not nursing your ass tonight if you puke,” Riza warned her… although she already knew full well that she would. 

“Oh, I’m totally not gonna puke this time,” Sheska promised… although she already knew full well that she would.  
  
"Five bucks says you're making out with the toilet before midnight," Jean offered.  
  
"I'll bet you ten that she makes it past that," Riza countered.

While the three of them continued arguing about who was puking where and how much money was to be wagered over said puking, Maes and Roy exchanged a glance and a smile over their guests’ hooligan tendencies.  In spite of the trio’s collective insanity, the boys considered themselves extremely fortunate that their friends had such an incredibly blasé attitude towards their relationship…

…which was why what happened next came as such a big surprise.

*****

“ _Hip-hip-hooray! Yay for being gay!”_

Roy and Maes watched in shock, horror, and amusement as Riza and Sheska drunkenly serenaded them with what had to be the strangest and most awkward display of moral support either of them had ever seen in their young lives.  While Jean was also donning a crazily decorated cone-shaped hat similar to the one that presently rested atop the girls’ heads in the most haphazard of fashions, he had wisely decided to forego the song and dance (yes, there had been dancing just a few minutes prior) in favor of watching along with the couple as the debacle unfolded before them.

After punctuating the final ear-shattering note of their impromptu song with an equally embarrassing belch, Sheska pelted Roy and Maes with makeshift confetti… makeshift in that she hastily tore into bits any piece of paper within reaching distance, including Mrs. Hughes’ most recent credit card statement.  Riza broke out two additional cone-shaped hats and put them on the guests of honor--who were entirely too stunned to put up a fight--while Jean reached beneath the sofa upon which they were all crammed together and pulled out three presents of varying sizes.  He handed them over to the flabbergasted pair before shoving a much-needed cigarette between his lips.

“Happy, um, Gay Day. Or whatever,” he said, lighting the smoke.  

“Gay Day?” Roy asked. “What the hell?”

“ _Homigawd_ , check me out!” Sheska screamed, staring down at her ample cleavage, which was now enhanced by two cone-shaped hats, each one barely covering a generous breast.  “Do I not look like fucking nineties Madonna or what?  Ha!”

And with that inebriated observation on inappropriate uses of cone-shaped hats, the room fell silent as Sheska cracked open another beer.  Finally, Riza sighed and shook her head in embarrassment; what else could she do?

“We wanted to do a little something for you two so that you knew we were _totally_ okay with your being together.  We love you guys and we're really happy for you,” she explained, leaning over to kiss Roy on the cheek while reaching behind him to punch Maes in the shoulder.   “So, you know, don’t ever think that we’re not.  You're our friends.  Always.” 

“No doubt,” Jean said.  He dropped the smoldering butt of his depleted cigarette into a half-empty beer bottle before continuing.  “No matter how much--” 

“--you take it up the butt,” Sheska finished. 

“Or something like that,” Jean concluded. 

“Um… wow,” Maes said, wrapping a steadying arm around Sheska, who had begun to waver to and fro with her eyes closed and a slice of pizza dangling from her mouth.  “This is really awesome of you guys, seriously… but you know I’m not gay, right?”  He glanced down at the box that was ensconced in rainbow wrapping paper and an outrageous red bow.  “I mean, I want _Roy_ , yeah.  Not dudes in general.”

“And _I’ve_ been gay ever since you’ve known me,” Roy added, cradling the presents in his hands.  “How come I never got a party until now?” 

Riza and Jean exchanged a pondering glance while Sheska could only ponder whether or not the contents of her stomach would _remain_ in her stomach.

“Because it’s the first time either of you have been gay  _for_ _each other_ ,” Jean explained on the fly, looking rather impressed with himself for thinking up such a legitimate-sounding line of bullshit. 

“Yeah, what he said,” Riza concurred.  “So shut the fuck up and open your gifts, you gayfers.”

A half-eaten slice of pepperoni pizza sailed across the air and landed on top of the coffee table with a heavy thud as Sheska burst into a fit of laughter.  “Gayfers!” she cried, holding onto her stomach… and then holding onto her mouth as she stood up and sprinted out of the room, leaving Roy, Maes, Jean, and Riza to cringe as the sound of gut-wrenching vomiting floated out to their ears from the bathroom.

“Ugh.  That’s gonna leave a stain,” Jean remarked, lighting yet another cigarette. 

“Are you kidding?  That’s gonna leave a fucking _smell_ ,” Riza growled as she hauled herself to her feet… but her mood lifted considerably when she glanced down at her watch.  “Hey, it’s seven after midnight,” she pointed out to Jean with a beautifully devious smile. “I believe you owe me ten bucks.”

*****

After checking in on the boys as they slept in their respective beds, Trisha quietly slipped out of the front door and sat down on the same step where her son had pleaded with Roy not to leave. Although she normally partook of her little secret in the kitchen, tonight she felt like having a change of scenery, and what better scene than a clear, starry night with nothing but the sound of crickets to break the silence? 

She shoved the cigarette between her smiling lips and lit it, her mind replaying an earlier phone conversation that she'd had with one Nash Tringham. When Ed first mentioned his new “curricular activity,” she was more than skeptical, and rightfully so. That child had been the brunt of so much cruelness over the years, the last thing she wanted was to see him hurt yet again, especially since he had seemed so uncharacteristically enthusiastic about this gardening project, of all things. But after speaking to Russell's father--who had a _very_ lovely speaking voice--and confirming that everything was legitimate, only then was Trisha able to breathe a sigh of relief. 

Ed had a friend. A real, honest-to-goodness friend. Finally.

She exhaled a plume of smoke and watched as it dissipated into the the air. As she did time and time again, she found herself wondering what the future might hold for her children, especially Ed, who had so much working against him. Would he ever really, _truly_ feel comfortable in his skin?  And his metal? Aside from Roy and now Russell, would he ever make friends? Would he find _love_? And if he did, would it be with... well, no, that part didn't matter. Trisha genuinely couldn't have cared less if Ed was gay as long as he was happy.

She smiled again at the synonymous irony of her thoughts and took another drag off the cigarette. 

“Love, huh?” she queried into the darkness. “That would be nice, wouldn't it?”

With a small sigh, she crushed the cigarette beneath her shoe and shoved the butt into her pocket. She then stood up and walked back into the house, unable to help but wonder if she would ever again find the very thing that she so desperately wished for her son.

*****

“Is she dead?” Roy asked from the doorway, peering into his bedroom at the lump of blanketed flesh formerly known as Sheska.

“Fuck if I know,” Riza replied absentmindedly as she lay beside the semi-conscious heap while helping herself to an eyeful of Roy's Playgirl. “Hey. Drunk Bitch,” she said, prodding at Sheska with her elbow. “Are you dead?”

A low, zombie-esque moan filled the room. “...never drinking again....” 

“Why not? I'm making a fortune off your puking ass,” Riza pointed out. 

Roy chuckled and shook his head. “Please don't let her throw up in my bed. And don't do anything funky with my porn.”

“Too late, I already started. I'll change your sheets in the morning, though,” the teen quipped, winking coyly. 

“You're disgusting.”

“And you love it. 'Night.”

“Goodnight.” Roy closed the door and eased across the hallway into Maes' room, where he and Jean sat on the bed watching _Queer as Folk_ \--Jean's gift to them. “What'd I miss?” he asked, running over to the bed and making a leaping dive right into Jean's chest, knocking him over.

“Ow!” Jean rubbed at his torso and sulked in Roy's general direction. “Watch it, ya big 'mo!”

“Oh, stop being a wuss,” Roy said. He curled up beside Maes and found himself momentarily distracted by a very hot, very naked man on the television screen. “Who is _that?_ ”

“Brian Kinney,” Maes and Jean answered simultaneously. 

“ _Hello_ , Brian,” Roy said, realizing within seconds that he had found his new all-time favorite show. “I can't believe you watch this stuff, Jean.”

“Why not?” Jean lit a cigarette and cupped his hand beneath it to catch any runaway ashes. “It's a good show.”

“And apparently it has lesbians, too,” Maes added, wrapping an arm around Roy. 

“Bingo.” Jean smiled sheepishly while he smoked. “So you know... that helps offset all the cock.”

“Yay for vaginas,” Roy mumbled, picking up the DVD case and looking it over. “Dude, you didn't have to buy this for us. These things cost a lot of money.”

Jean shrugged and tapped ash into the palm of his hand. “It's not every day you get a gay party.”

“Yeah, but still...” Roy took Jean's cigarette and stole a drag for himself. 

“Don't worry about it,” Jean insisted, taking back the cigarette. “Besides, I wanted to get you something halfway decent since I knew Riza and Sheska would be cheap bastards.”

“No way, man,” Maes piped in. “I _totally_ wanted _The Village People's_ _Greatest Hits_ and a cock-shaped lollipop. My life is now complete.”

The three teens broke out into a fit of laughter over the girls' choices of gay-themed gifts. While it was certainly the thought that counted, none of them could _quite_ put their finger on what Riza and Sheska had been thinking... which wasn't really much different from any other day, was it?

*****

Almost three hours later, the three of them could hardly keep their eyes open any longer. Maes turned off the TV and shoved the DVDs under his bed; he would worry about a more suitable hiding place tomorrow--among his smut stash, most likely.

Jean stood up and stretched his long legs. He looked down at the couple on the bed and then, recalling the massive amounts of feigned homosexual sex that they had just watched, immediately looked away, flushing slightly. 

“Uh... I can go sleep in the living room if you two want to... you know... be _alone_ ,” he offered.

“Jesus, Jean,” Roy grumbled sleepily, throwing a pillow onto the floor. “You know, we _can_ refrain from touching each other when we have company.”

“Yeah, we abstain. Kind of like you, but by choice,” Maes added with a smirk. 

“Asshole,” Jean said.

“Virgin,” Maes replied.

“Cock gobbler.”

“Oh, shut up, both of you,” Roy muttered, flopping over the edge of the bed onto the floor and dragging Maes' comforter with him. “Maes and I don't sleep in the same bed when his parents are gone because sometimes they come back early,” he explained to Jean, thinking back to the morning when Mr. Hughes had almost found him in Maes' bed. “So grab a pillow and get your ass down here.”

“And don't molest him or I'll kick your fucking ass,” Maes added. 

“I'll try to contain myself,” Jean promised, ducking before a projectile pillow could hit him in the face. He plopped down on the floor next to Roy--but not _too_ close--and pulled part of the comforter over him. “Goodnight, lovebirds,” he said, fluffing up the pillow and burying his face in it. 

“Goodnight, Jean,” Roy said with a smile, resisting the urge to reach over and yank on the blond bird nest that poked out from beneath the thick blanket. Instead, he turned to his boyfriend and took him by the hand. “Goodnight,” he said again, pulling Maes toward him. 

All too eager to comply, Maes leaned over and kissed Roy softly--but quickly--on the lips. “'Night.” He nuzzled his forehead against Roy's and grinned as the sound of muffled mocking floated to their ears. “Don't make me come down there, Havoc,” he said.

“You'd like that,” Jean said.

“You wish,” Maes replied.

“I swear to God, if you two don't stop, _I'm_ going to go sleep on the couch,” Roy warned, lying down and reclaiming part of the comforter as Maes turned off his bedside lamp.

“Yes, dear,” Maes whispered as he wrapped himself in the bed's sheets, which made Jean burst into a fit of giggles... which made Roy kick him.

After the noise died down, Roy closed his eyes and soon found himself drifting towards slumber; he must have been more tired than he realized--

“Young man... there's no need to feel down, I said young man... pick yourself off the ground--”

“ _Maes!!!”_

*****

“ _Roy!!!”_

Roy didn't think that he would ever tire of hearing Al's shrill cry of joy over seeing him. He caught the child as he flew towards him and hugged him tightly, still secretly lamenting the day when Al would outgrow such open displays of affection.

“Hey, kiddo,” Roy said, breathing in the scent of him.  “How was your day?”

“Good!” Al beamed eagerly. “How was yours?”

“Mine was good, too,” Roy responded, setting him down. He grabbed Al's hand and led him over to the sofa, where Ed sat quietly perusing a book on... 

_Flowers?_

“What's up, Ed?” he asked, sitting down beside the eight-year-old and leaning back as Al crawled into his lap. He peered over Ed's shoulder and then looked at his down-turned head. “I didn't know you were into flowers,” he said.

He did, though; Mrs. Elric had already filled him in on Russell and their little playground pet project, which Roy had been very happy to hear about; the kid needed a friend his age, that was for sure. And while he was certain that there wasn't any particular reason that Ed hadn't told him about it--kids did tend to have zero in the way of attention span these days--Roy didn't want to let on that he knew until _Ed_ felt like telling him. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

“I'm not,” Ed said with a nonchalant shrug of his tiny shoulders. “I'm just lookin' up stuff for this thing I'm doin' at school.” 

“A flower thing?”

“Nuh-uh.” Ed vigorously shook his head. “A _garden_ thing.”

“Mom said that Ed has a green tongue,” Al spoke up, tugging on Roy's shirt.

“Thumb,” both Roy and Ed said. Ed glanced at Roy and smiled shyly at their like-minded response, and Roy was once again struck by the simple loveliness of the boy's face... when he wasn't plotting worldwide ruination, that was. 

There had been a cautious, almost eerie, but definitely most welcome sense of peace between them after the stew incident the week before. Granted, Ed was still a terror, as evidenced by what Roy would now and forever refer to as the “Superglue Mishap.” But even so, things were good. Things were _very_ good. And all it had taken was a kick in the nuts, losing some hair, and a steaming bowl of stew right in the face. 

“Which ones do you like?” Ed asked, tilting the book so that Roy could better see it. 

Roy looked past the child's inordinate blond cowlick and gazed at the pages filled with... tulips, he believed them to be. “I like the blue ones,” he said, pointing them out to Ed. It was ironic, he supposed, preferring such a cool color given his pastime of choice, but be that as it may, he liked what he liked.

Ed nodded his approval. “I'll grow you some. I-If you want.”

Although he kept his head down, Roy could see the tips of Ed's ears grow pink with embarrassment. The sweetness of it all was damn near unbearable. “I'd like that a lot, Ed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“What about me, Brother? I want flowers, too,” Al whined.  Adorably.

“Do my chores for a month and I'll think about it,” Ed said. “No. _Two_.”

“B-But... I'm tellin' Mom!” Al hopped off of Roy's lap and bolted out of the room, yelling for his mother. 

Roy tried not to laugh at Al's dramatic exit. And failed. “You totally already have something picked out just for him, don't you?”

“Mm-hm,” the child replied, nodding emphatically. 

_This kid..._

Roy reached out and gently ruffled Ed's hair.

“You are such a little shit.”

Ed turned to look at Roy and smiled proudly.

“I know.”

*****

After having _“Y.M.C.A.”_ stuck in his head for the better part of the entire weekend, Maes was about ready to pitch that damn _Greatest Hits_ CD into a fire of his own making. Instead, he tossed it onto Roy's bed and was about to leave the room when he noticed something else lying on top of the comforter. Taking a few steps closer, Maes adjusted his glasses and craned his neck...

Oh. _That._

He walked over to the bed and picked up Ed's Optimus Prime, which had somehow fallen off the nightstand on which Roy had it so prominently displayed. Although he could fully understand why Roy would have it there--because it was Optimus Motherfucking Prime--what Maes _couldn't_ understand was why he had it _at all._  When Maes was eight, no one would have been able to pry something like that from his cold, dead grip, crush or no crush. 

While he had no problem with Ed's infatuation over his boyfriend--it was actually cute in a baby gay kind of way--Maes was nevertheless jealous of Ed, in a manner of speaking. Jealous that he and Roy shared something that Maes would never understand, try as he might. Because Maes wasn't gay. True, he loved Roy. He wanted him. He had beaten off countless times while thinking about him _and_ he had gone down on him, swallowed his cum, and loved every second of it.  But still, _he wasn't gay_. To be honest, Maes didn't even consider himself bisexual, either.   
  
It was just Roy. 

_Only_ Roy. 

He returned Optimus to the nightstand, adjusting the toy's pose so that it wouldn't fall over again and mentally berating himself for being such a tool about the whole thing. Besides, it was _good_ that Ed had someone to talk to about this stuff. Although his own childhood had been a cakewalk--primarily because he had never been one to give much of a shit about anything most other kids cared about--Maes knew from Roy's own personal tales of horror that it could be downright shitty when one was considered 'different.' Throw being gay and having metal appendages in the mix and it was no goddamn wonder the boy was a walking clusterfuck.  
  
He left the room and slowly made his way down the hallway, heading towards the dining room to join his parents for dinner.  In the end, he decided that it was just best to leave well enough alone.  Ed's crush was simply that, just a crush, and he would grow out of it soon enough. It wasn't as if Maes had anything _else_ to worry about as far as the kid was concerned...


	17. Bonus - Fireside Chat

“It's gonna rain.”  
  
Roy craned his neck toward the night sky, searching for any hint of truth in Maes' prediction. Although there was nary a star to be found, neither did there appear to be any of the typical precursors to a downpour. However, he had lived there long enough to know that it wasn't uncommon at all for the weather to turn on a dime, although he didn't think that now was one of those times.

“Nah. Well... maybe. Do you want to go inside?”

“Nope. I'm good right where I am.” Maes tightened his hold around Roy as they sat in front of the crackling fire, sharing a blanket and a beer while being serenaded by the sounds of the night. It was, for both of the young men, about as perfect a moment as any, rain be damned.   
  
“Are your parents coming back tonight?” Roy asked, absentmindedly intertwining their fingers.

Maes shrugged and took a sip from the bottle of beer that he held in his free hand. “Not a clue. Why?”

“Well, you know, it's a school night and maybe we shouldn't be out here all cuddling and shit in case they come home.”

“Honestly? I really don't care right now.” Maes handed the beer to Roy and brought his free arm around the teen's waist. “Even if they did, it's not like they come out here anyway.”

“Yeah, but--”

“Come on, five more minutes,” Maes said, nuzzling his cheek against Roy's neck. “I get what you're saying, but just let me have five more minutes where I don't have to worry about it.”

Roy smiled softly at Maes' request. Leave it to him to act as if they didn't have _more_ than their fair share of unrestrained intimate moments. Indeed, Roy never thought he would be so infinitely grateful for such otherwise egregious parental neglect. Where so many other kids their age were resorting to all sorts of trickery for an hour or two with their special person, Roy and Maes had the advantage of _living together_ ; it truly didn't get much better than that.

“Alright,” Roy conceded, nodding against the stubble of his lover's cheek. “But that's it, okay?”

“Okay, sure.”

Roy could practically feel Maes' smirk and knew he had better be on guard. The kid could charm the devil out of Jesus, that was for sure.   
  
“Oh, hey.”

“Hm?”

“What the hell did you do with that penispop?”

Maes chuckled against Roy's ear, and the teen thought that he had never heard anything quite as nice... but unfortunately, the damn thing should also come with a warning.

“Or do I even want to know?” he added.

“I gave it to my mom,” Maes answered nonchalantly.

“Get the fuck out!” Roy turned around and gaped at him in shock and disbelief. “Maes, you did _not_ give a cock-shaped lollipop to your _mother_.”

“I most certainly did,” the young man replied solemnly. “The other day at dinner while you were babysitting.”

Roy shook his head at Maes' audacity. Not that he was surprised by it--this _was_ Maes, after all. But still.

“What did she do with it?”

A brief wave of disgust passed across Maes' face and Roy decided that perhaps such things really weren't any of his business. “You know what? Don't tell me,” he said, deeply regretting his curiosity. “I don't want to know.”

“She put it in her mouth then said it was about the same size as my dad's.”

“ _GAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”_

Roy cringed in disgust, desperate to think of something, _anything,_ that would purge his mind of the sheer, unbelievable horror of contemplating any part of Mr. Hughes' anatomy in _that_ general vicinity. “Oh, you fucking asshole,” he muttered. “That's... just... _ugh_.”

“Hey, you weren't there, okay? You didn't have to spend ten minutes listening to him try and tell me how he wasn't hung like an infant.” Maes shuddered as he recalled the terror of that evening before launching into a eerily dead-on impersonation of his father. “'Now, now son, you should know better than that. I'm rather gifted in that area if I do say so myself.'”

“Maes, if you say one more word about it, I swear I'm breaking up with you.”

Silence fell between the two young men...

“If it's true at least you know I don't take after him.”

“ _Maes!”_

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry,” Maes said, grinning and pulling Roy back into the circle of his arms.

Roy not-so-begrudgingly sank back against his chest and polished off the rest of the beer before speaking up. “I don't know why the fuck you even bother saying that when you know damn well you're not.”

“Well... no... but I'm trying _really hard_ to be,” the teen replied with mock sincerity. “That counts, right?”

The stubborn facade could no longer hold. Roy's face broke out into a smile as bright as the fire that illuminated it.  Try as he might, there was simply no winning against Maes. None at all.   
  
He lazily chucked the now empty beer bottle on top of the makeshift pyre. Although he'd thought twice about doing so, he shrugged off the concern; God knew his fires had seen far worse things in the past, namely padded bras thrown by drunken bespectacled madwomen.   
  
“You know, you're not always going to be able to cute your way out of shit,” he pointed out.

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Maes whispered as he gently kissed the nape of Roy's neck.

“Mmmmmhey. It's been at least five minutes now,” Roy murmured, barely suppressing a shiver as soft lips danced along his skin.

“Five more,” Maes insisted, easing his left hand under Roy's shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“My hand is cold.”

Before Roy could open his mouth to protest--or do much of anything else for that matter--a large drop of water landed on his nose. It was followed by another... and then another... and then the sky was filled with the faint yet unmistakable sound of thunder.

Maes pulled off his glasses and sighed reluctantly as rain began drizzling around them.

“Have I mentioned how much it sucks being right _all_ the time?”


	18. Bonus - Bedside Chat

“Brother? Are you sleepin'?”

“Yes.”

“Oh... okay.”

“Al, get _in_ here.”

Ed yawned and sat up in the bed. He lazily rubbed his eyes and nose and mouth--in no particular order--and listened to the soft, cautious steps of his younger brother as they shuffled across the room and stopped at the foot of his bed. It never got old, tricking Al. That's what big brothers were for, after all. But he couldn't help but wonder if it would always be so _easy._

“Bad dream?” Ed asked, yawning again.

Although he couldn't clearly see the boy's face in the darkness, Al's hesitation to respond was as plain as day. Ed couldn't blame him, really; it was hard to admit to something like that, especially to someone who could--and, let's face it, _would_ \--hold it over his head at some point down the road. But that was a subject for another time. As for now...

“Come on,” he said, pulling back his blanket.

Ed felt a nagging tug on his heart at the sound of Al's sigh of relief, and the corner of his mouth curved in a half-smile. He moved toward the edge of the bed to make room for the boy and carefully tucked a portion of the blanket around his left leg so that Al wouldn't have to feel the coldness of his automail. 

“Better?”

“Yep,” Al replied merrily as he plopped down beside Ed and promptly stole his pillow. “Thank you.”

So touched was Ed by the genuine gratitude in Al's voice that the eight-year-old decided to forgive him the trespass of pillow-thievery. For the moment, in any case. 

“Was it Ronald McDonald again?” he asked, propping himself up on his elbow. 

“... Yeah.”

Al had been downright terrified of the fast food icon since the first time their mother had taken them into a McDonalds, which was, incidentally, also the last time. It had proven to be one of the rare instances where the brothers' reputation preceded them because of _Al_ , who had caused such a commotion over a life-sized statue of the creepy demon clown that Trisha had to drag him out of the restaurant, kicking and screaming and completely consumed with fear. Since then, the young boy was plagued by occasional nightmares of the monstrosity. While they weren't as rampant as they had been those first few nights after the incident, the nights when those dreams _did_ rear their ugly head were still pretty hard on the little guy.

Ed reached out and playfully ruffled Al's hair. “'Sokay,” he said. He felt Al nod in return and smiled again, pleased that he was able to console him without resorting to all of the usual mom-talk. Because that was for, you know, _moms_. Ed scooted beside Al and rested his head on the corner of the pillow. “Try to get some sleep,” he added, yawning a third time. 

“'Kay.”

Silence fell between the two young boys...

“Brother?”

“Hm?”

“Do I _really_ have to do your chores for you to plant me some flowers?”

Ed contemplated stringing Al along a little while longer; the kid was just so damn entertaining in that regard. But unfortunately, his conscience got the better of him, as it normally did where Al was concerned.

“Maybe.”

For the most part, that was.

“ _Roy_ doesn't have to do your chores.”

“Well, that's just 'cause--”

“--you _like_ him?”

Ed's eyes, which had closed in anticipation of sleeping, flew open with a start. While it was true that they had discussed Roy before, the underlying accusation in Al's voice hinted at something far deeper than merely finding the teen suitable enough to watch over them in their mother's absence. 

“ _No I don't,_ ” Ed insisted. He could feel his face flush and was grateful that Al couldn't see him. “I mean... I... _shut up_ _no I don't_.” 

Al began giggling, and in spite of his horror, Ed didn't think that he had ever heard a nicer sound. “You shouldn't lie, Brother,” the boy said, still laughing. 

“I'm _not_ lying.” Yes, he was.

“Yes, you are.” Al turned toward Ed and nudged him with his foot. “I know because you shake when you lie.”

Sure enough, Ed's right leg was fidgeting up a storm, so much so that the entire bed was vibrating. He hadn't even noticed. “I... just... shut up and go to sleep,” he said, turning his back to his brother and pulling what little blanket he could muster over his head. Stupid Al with his stupid intuition being so... _stupid._

“I don't care,” Al said, speaking with the simple and irrefutable honesty of a child. “I don't care who you like as long as it's not... you know...”

Even as embarrassed as he was, Ed cringed and stuck out his tongue in disgust. Although his young mind hadn't quite yet fully grasped the concept of gayness and straightness and all things in between, he knew one thing for certain: Winry was nice as far as girls went, but he would never like her. Not like _that_. No way, not _ever_. 

“No problem,” Ed promised. He uncovered his head and turned toward the other boy. “Now go to sleep, Al. We got school tomorrow. 'Kay?”

“'Kay.”

“'Night.”

“... Brother?”

“Hm?”

“Can I...?”

Ed sighed and opened his eyes again. “Can you what?”

“Can I say something?” Al's voice was barely a whisper.

“What do you wanna say, Al?” Ed asked.

Al went quiet. And just when Ed was starting to wonder if he had fallen asleep, the boy spoke up in a way that he would remember for the rest of his life.

“Shitfuckdamn.”

“ _Al!”_  
  
Ed had never been so horrified. And amused. Was this what his mother had meant by being a bad influence on his brother? 

If so, it was, quite frankly, absolutely _hilarious._

“You better not let Mom hear you say stuff like that,” he warned, trying his damnedest not to laugh. 

“But you say stuff like that all the time,” Al pointed out.

“Yeah, but you're the good one,” Ed explained. He reached out in the darkness until one tiny automail finger poked the small boy in the chest. “You're the good one, so _stay_ good. For Mom.” God knew the woman had enough to deal with without seeing her sweet little boy turn into some swearing fanatic. One swearing fanatic was more than enough. “Do that and I'll plant you all the flowers you want.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Ed promised. He had planned on doing that anyway, of course, but what Al didn't know wouldn't hurt him. At least not in this instance. “Now go to sleep or I'll take it all back.”

“Okay.”

In a rare show of nighttime selflessness, Al relinquished his absconded share of blanket and pillow so that they could both make full use of them. Ed yawned one final time and closed his eyes yet again, his face still plastered with a smile over Al's impromptu potty mouth. Maybe now he would finally be able to get some sleep--

“Brother?”

“... Hm?”

“Is 'boobies' a bad word, too?”

“I don't think it's too bad, Al. Just... _really_ _gross_.”

“Why, because they have milk sometimes?”

“ _GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!”_

*****

Having long been privy to these insightful nighttime talks as the boys had no true concept of keeping their voices down, Trisha clapped a hand over her mouth to contain her laughter as Ed's traumatized cry finally died down. 

She supposed it might be best if he never found out that he had been breastfed.


	19. Chapter 19

Ed and Russell beheld their garden amidst the playground din, both of them basking in their own respective sense of accomplishment and deservedly proud of the fruits, or rather, _flowers_ of their labor. Ed, in particular, was very happy with the results of his first foray into the world of horticulture, as evidenced by the rare but genuinely heartfelt smile on his face, a sight rumored but rarely seen outside of the presence of his family and Roy. Such a beautiful thing amazed the staff who had stopped by over the past few weeks to comment on the garden, perhaps more so than the garden itself.

Nestled among the small sea of vegetation were the tulips that he had so meticulously chosen in honor of his loved ones, overshadowing everything else in their regality, a breathtaking array of varying shades of purples and reds and, perhaps most importantly, blues. Because Trisha and Nash had the foresight to realize that even the most amazing of children--namely _theirs_ \--still lacked the necessary patience for such an endeavor, the parents had splurged and purchased most of the flowers in a state of near readiness. Had they been present to witness the expressions upon the faces of their sons, it would have been confirmation enough of money well-spent.

“My dad's gonna come by after school and take some pictures,” Russell informed Ed. “He said to tell your mom that he would give her copies.”

Ed nodded as he bent over and picked up a grasshopper, something he would not have dreamed of doing when the two boys had first met. “Okay,” he said, chucking the insect aside before he could be thoroughly grossed out by the feel of creepy bug legs scratching against his palm.

He thought it would be nice to have Russell and his father over again. The first time they visited, just this past weekend, had been way more fun than Ed had dared to anticipate. Mr. Tringham seemed nice enough as far as men went; since Ed really only had his father as a basis of comparison, it was hard to know what to expect, although he was smart enough to realize that almost _anyone_ was a drastic improvement over Hohenheim. Then there was little Fletcher, whom Ed had unintentionally terrorized by way of being his usual loud, bratty self.

Well... maybe not so unintentionally. This _was_ Ed, after all.

Indeed, a fun time was had by all. Except for Fletcher.

“Well, there's nothing else we need to do now so... do you wanna go play?” Russell asked.

Ed gaped at his new friend as if the boy had spoken in a foreign language. Not that he was unfamiliar with the concept of playing, but it was not something he normally partook of at school, where he was subject to such constant ridicule. Idling away in obscurity on a swing by himself was the closest he had ever come to such a thing, save for the times when Al's class had recess along with his, so it was little wonder he was stunned to think of doing so.

But perhaps it was about time that changed.

He favored Russell with a grateful smile and nodded shyly. “... Yeah.”

“Alright! Come on, let's go!”

Russell eagerly grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards the myriad of playtime contraptions. They decided on one of the emptier jungle gyms and set about traversing it with a quickness and agility known only to children. Neither boy noticed two pairs of eyes watching them with a wicked gleam the entire time, patiently waiting for their departure from the garden over which they had both toiled so fervently.

As they would soon learn yet again, sometimes the cruelness of youth _far_ outweighed its innocence.

*****

“What kind of car do you think I should get?”

Roy peered out of the passenger side window at the vast array of vehicles that they passed en route to picking up Ed and Al. Nothing in particular struck his fancy; as a matter of fact, if not for his perceived inconvenience to others, Roy was perfectly content not owning a car at all. With the exception of school, he had no need or want to go many places outside of home and it wasn't as if he was averse to public transportation, assuming he could figure out how the hell it worked, what with all the transferring and whatnot.

Maes mumbled a rather scathing obscenity at the car ahead of them, who dared to commit the offense of driving the posted speed limit. “Something practical. Good gas mileage, all that crap-- _hurry up_ , _you motherfucker!_ ” He glanced at Roy with an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry.”

“Don't be,” Roy said with a grin, shrugging off the sentiment. “So why something practical?”

“Because you're a practical kind of guy,” Maes offered. “I can't see you in one of those douchebag cars with all that lame-ass shit on them. All those souped-up tires and dumb decals and spoilers and junk...”

“Maes, your car has a spoiler.”

“Hey, it was like that when I bought it,” the teen stated in his defense. “And it's a factory spoiler, so that's okay.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Shut up.”

Roy's laughter rang out in the car as Maes pulled into the elementary school parking lot and stopped in the first available slot. “Be right back,” Roy announced with a grin as he got out and delved into the swarm of children to find Ed and Al.

After a few minutes of waiting at what had been designated their usual meeting place on the days he picked them up, Roy began wandering around the throng, looking for any sign of a blond cowlick, but to no avail. A worried frown lined his brow as he made a beeline for the first teacher he spotted, who was ripping some poor kid a new one for running around like a bat out of hell as if every other kid out there wasn't doing the same exact thing.

“Excuse me, Miss?” he began, remembering his manners. “I'm here to pick up Edward and Alphonse Elric. Have you seen them?”

Unbelievable, the bitch actually cringed when he said their names. Roy clenched his teeth and struggled to keep his cheesy fake smile in place. It would serve no purpose to be rude right now; it was best just to find Ed and Al and get the hell out of there.

“You can find them in the principal's office,” she informed him, a little too happily for Roy's taste.

“What happened?”

The woman gave Roy a curious and somewhat condescending once-over and he was reminded again how _very_ much he hated some adults.

“There was... an incident.”

*****

Al spotted him first, and Roy sighed in relief as the young boy bolted over to him. “Hey Al,” he said, kneeling down in front of him and ruffling his hair.

“Hi Roy!” Al beamed happily. “Hi Maes!” he added, staring up at the tall teen, who had decided to join Roy after it became evident that all was not right.

“Hey there, Al.” Although Maes was only ever able to see him the days he drove Roy to and from the Elrics, the kid had grown on him by leaps and bounds over the past few weeks; he really _was_ just the sweetest thing.

“What's going on, Al?” Roy asked. “Where's Ed?”

The child pointed at the ominous closed door and lowered his voice to conspirative levels, although the principal's secretary, who was well within earshot, was already fully aware of the situation. “In there, with Mom and Dad.”

Well, this couldn't be good. Still, they hadn't seen any police cars or ambulances or fire trucks on the way in, so surely, whatever had happened couldn't possibly be all _that_ bad.

“... because he hit a girl.”

Or not.

“Oh shit,” Maes muttered, forgetting his surroundings, although the very loud, very obvious throat-clearing of a certain secretary within earshot served as a firm warning reminder.

Before Roy could respond more appropriately, the door to the principal's office opened. The teen's heartbeat instinctively faltered; even at the ripe old age of sixteen, the fear and trepidation of what lurked in that fabled inner sanctum of ultimate authority still managed to rear its ugly head. Trisha poked her head out of the door and looked towards the seats where Al was supposed to be sitting.

Needless to say, given whatever was unfolding in that office, she did not look pleased _whatsoever._

“Alphonse, where are--” The woman spotted her son with Roy and her expression mellowed. Somewhat. “Oh, hello boys. Roy, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot to call you and tell you not to bother coming here.”

“That's alright,” Roy reassured her, standing upright and shoving his hands into his pockets. “It's no big deal.”

“None at all,” Maes concurred.

Trisha smiled kindly, if a bit tiredly. That was more like it.

“I tell you what,” she said. “Since you are here and since I don't know how much longer we're going to be, why don't you go ahead and take the boys home for me, if you would.”

“Okay.” Roy tapped Al on the head. “Go grab your stuff.”

Trisha turned around and began speaking to Ed in hushed tones. Although Roy couldn't make out exactly what she was saying, it was evident that _he_ was not the real source of her agitation. She stepped back and he walked out of the office... and Roy felt something inside of himself break as it had time and time again where Ed was concerned.

The eight-year-old looked like pure fucking hell. His clothes were a dirty mess, as was his face, save for the spots rendered clean by his tears. In his left hand, he clutched one broken blue tulip, and in seeing that, Roy already knew, he just _knew_ what had happened.

“I'll be home as soon as I'm done here,” Trisha said softly, seeing the painful truth of Ed's dilemma play out on Roy's face. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something else, but was cut off by the unintelligible protest of her husband, who was no doubt having a fit over his two sons being released to the care of a faggot and his boyfriend. “Oh, _stop it_ , Hohenheim,” she snapped as she shut the door. If Roy hadn't been so distraught, he would have been quite amused by her tone. And a little bit frightened.

He turned to look at the pitiful sight before him. “Jesus, Ed...”

“Come on, Al,” Maes said suddenly, offering his hand. Not that he was being insensitive to the situation, quite the contrary. Whether or not he liked it, whether or not he understood, there was a connection between Roy and Ed that no one, not even Mrs. Elric, it seemed, could breach. And since this moment was representative of that connection, what could he do besides yield to it?

While Maes and Al headed out of the office, Ed slowly approached Roy with a creased brow and downcast eyes. He outstretched his arm and offered him the tulip with a small, sad sigh, and it was all Roy could do not to cry over the unbearable ache of it all.

At that moment, with the exception of Ed and Al, Roy hated every single child on the face of the earth.

“This was all I could save,” the boy said sorrowfully. “I'm sorry.”

Sadness and rage welled up in Roy. How many more times would this kid feel as if he had to apologize for the wrong done to _him_?

“It's not your fault, Ed.” The teen took the limp flower and smiled at him, hoping like hell that it at least _looked_ more convincing than it felt. “Thank you very much.”

“Don't lose it.”

“I won't,” Roy promised, gently holding the sole surviving tulip. It went without saying that it had already become one of the most treasured things that he would ever own in his entire life.

“Come on,” he said, motioning with his head toward the exit. “Let's go home.”

*****

“So those two girls just wrecked their garden for no reason, huh?” Maes leaned against the door of his car and shook his head at Roy's retelling of the story that he had finally managed to coax out of Ed after they'd arrived at the boys' house. “Man, that's _really_ fucked up.”

Roy nodded in agreement. “Little twin bitches,” he said. “Rose and... Noa... or something like that.”

“Like the Ark guy?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Lame.”

“Yeah.” Roy ran his hand through his hair, vaguely noting that it had finally started to even out from Ed's surprise scissors attack. “Ed and his friend caught them after they had torn everything to shit and Ed... he just lost it.”

“Where the hell were all the teachers when this was going on?” Maes asked.

Roy shrugged and began pacing slowly alongside the car. “Who fucking knows? It's not like they give a damn about him anyway. And now he's probably going to be suspended while those other two get a slap on the goddamn wrist.”

“Well... I mean...”

Maes closed his mouth and quickly glanced downward.

Roy stopped pacing and stared at his boyfriend. “Well, what?”

“Well, nothing... but...” Maes peeled off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes, inwardly scolding himself. This was a touchy fucking subject; _anything_ having to do with Ed was a potentially touchy fucking subject. He should have known better than to open his trap to begin with. But be that as it may, it was too late to change the subject now.

Although perhaps, for once, the subject shouldn't be changed.

“I mean... you know... Ed _did_ hit someone... a _girl_ ,” he said slowly, carefully, hoping that the simple statement of truth would override Roy's unwavering inclination to champion for Ed. Not that there was anything wrong with that, not at all, but just maybe, sometimes, when actual discipline was called for, it blinded him, too.

Sometimes, like _right now._

“So, what, are you're saying it only would have been okay if he had hit a boy? That just because she's a girl, she can go around and ruin people's shit?"

“No, Roy, that's not what I'm saying.”

Maes took a deep breath before continuing, holding his own in the presence of the storm brewing behind those eyes. The die was already cast; if he couldn't speak freely as his boyfriend, as he'd had no qualms doing _before_ they became a couple, then what good was he?

“First of all,” he began, taking great care in choosing his words. “You don't even know for sure who's getting suspended or not, so don't jump to conclusions about that. Second, all I meant to say was that the punishment should fit the crime... and hitting a _person_ is probably going to be taken way more seriously than wrecking some flowers.”

“'Some flowers?'” Roy gaped at Maes in disbelief. “Those were more than just 'some flowers,' Maes. God... you know, you're the last person I expected to be so fucking insensitive.”

“For fuck's sake, Roy,” Maes snapped. “I don't mean that's what _I_ think. I _know_ how much that garden meant to those two. What I meant was that's how _other_ people would think. They don't give a shit how much effort Ed and... uh--”

“Russell.”

“--Russell spent putting all that together. Those two dumbass girls destroyed a garden. Ed _assaulted_ one of them. People are gonna see a big difference between those two things, no matter how much she may have had it coming. That's _all_ I was trying to say. Jesus fuck, Roy, give me _some_ credit. I'm not the enemy here.”

Maes bounded off of the car and opened the driver side door, trying his damnedest to ignore Roy's sullen, contemplating expression. It felt... _wrong,_ in a way, leaving things like this, but the last thing Maes wanted was to argue with Roy. Well, argue _more_. Even if he did, this most certainly wasn't the place for it, not with the audience of one currently watching them from an upstairs window.

“Maes, wait.”

The sound of the soft, pleading demand gave the teen pause. Maes wanted to give into it; it would have been so much easier to forget the entire conversation had even taken place, kiss him goodbye, and be done with it, and God, did he ever want to do just that. But... no. It wasn't going to work that way. That wouldn't have been fair to either of them.

Besides, he really _was_ irritated with him. What the fuck was up with lashing out at him like that? Couples should not be fighting over some kid that one of them babysat, no matter how seemingly great that kid was.  
  
For the first time, Maes found himself wondering just _how_ important Ed was to Roy.  
  
“Look, I don't want to get into this now," he said quietly, easing behind the wheel. "I'll see you tonight.”

And with that, Maes closed the door to his non-practical car and left, leaving Roy to stand there and stare, and wonder how everything had gone so horribly wrong.

*****

It didn't take a lip-reader to know that they'd had a fight.

Ed stepped away from the window and frowned, his curiosity over what he had just witnessed momentarily obliterating any concern for his own academic well-being. Roy and Maes _never_ fought, at least not that he could tell during the limited time he was around them both. As much as the eight-year-old hated to admit it, they were actually... kind of good together.

Maybe it was nothing. People _did_ fight sometimes, after all. Hell, Ed and Al fought _constantly_. Maybe it was...

Ed's eyes widened in shock.

Maybe it was about him?

Were they really fighting because of _him?_

No way, that couldn't be right. Everything had been fine during the car ride home. Roy had even sat in the back seat with him while Maes and Al sat up front; nothing at all seemed amiss as far as Ed could tell. And besides, why the heck would they fight over him? It wasn't like it was with his parents--now _that_ had been some scene. Ed always knew that his mother could be intimidating, but today, whenever his father had opened his mouth and said something stupid--which was pretty much every single time--she had been downright terrifying. Polite, always, _always,_ polite. But terrifying, all the same.

“Ed?”

“Yeah?”

Roy stepped into the room and smiled, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened outside just moments ago.

“Why don't you get cleaned up before your mom gets home,” Roy suggested.

Ed stared down at his gritty attire, which wasn't all _that_ bad, in his opinion, but then again, grown-ups did tend to be picky about that kind of thing. “Okay,” he said.

“Thanks. I'll be downstairs if you need me.” Roy's smile faltered as he left the room. It was obvious that his thoughts were elsewhere and, for once, Ed didn't mind.

He stared thoughtfully at the closed door for a moment and resolved to go easy on the teen tonight--and _only_ tonight--before snooping around for something suitable to wear until bath time. He had to admit that he already felt much better now after everything that had happened earlier that day, although for the record, _no_ , he wasn't the least bit sorry for pushing that jerk Noa flat on her butt. She had it coming after she hopped into the garden bed and started dancing around like an damn idiot. He was not looking forward to his punishment (suspension sounded a bit scary, truth be told) and he did not care for the way his father seemed to want to use the whole ordeal as some excuse to weasel his way back into the picture, but overall, it seemed as if the worst was behind him. For now, at least. The only thing he was genuinely worried about was whether or not Russell would still want to be his friend after seeing that side of him rear its ugly head. It was hard to say since they hadn't had a chance to talk after the whole debacle, what with principals and parents getting in the way.

Ed changed into the clothes he wore the day before--he was taking a bath later anyway, so no big deal--and wandered downstairs. He flopped onto the couch beside Roy and smiled to himself as slender fingers weaved their way through his hair and ruffled it into a haphazard jumble. Funny, these days, it seemed that there was nothing bad or hurtful or just plain wrong in the world that couldn't be undone by the nearness of Roy. Nothing at all.  
  
It was a wonderful feeling.

The eight-year-old sat back and began watching whatever weirdo crap Al had decided they would watch while he waited for his mother to return home. He soon became so engrossed in the godawful programming that he completely forgot about everything else... until Trisha arrived with Hohenheim in tow, and all hell proceeded to break loose.


	20. Chapter 20

Ed didn't want to be there.  
  
Correction: he didn't want _Hohenheim_ to be there.  
  
Sitting there across from him, looking down his stupid nose through his stupid glasses at him, as if he had any right to do so. Accepting his sentence would have been much more tolerable if Trisha was the only one present to announce it. But while he didn't always fully grasp the ways of adults, and honestly didn't care to, the eight-year-old did have a vague understanding that fatherhood granted the man some privilege to Ed's existence, no matter how undeserved it was. A quick glance to his right at his mother confirmed that he was not alone in his sentiment, which was a bit helpful. Still, he would much rather be outside with Roy and Al right now instead of having to deal with any of this... even if it was admittedly as a result of his own doing.  
  
“Edward,” Trisha began, leaning back against the sofa and running a hand through her long brown locks with a tired sigh. “You understand about the suspension, don't you?”  
  
Ed frowned and nodded. “Yeah,” he mumbled. Although he had warmed up considerably to the thought of having three days off from school--what the hell had he been so afraid of in the first place?--he was also fully aware of the stigma attached to such a judgment. But so be it. It wasn't as if most of the people at school thought all that much of him anyway. So, no, the suspension itself wasn't the issue.  
  
The _real_ issue, aside from his father's stupid face, was something else entirely.  
  
“And the apology,” Hohenheim added... with his stupid voice. “Don't forget, you are also expected to apologize to those girls when you go back.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Ed bolted off the couch in preparation of the showdown. If it had been anyone else, he just might have considered swallowing his pride long enough to spit out a half-assed “sorry” and be done with it. He had done it before, plenty of times, and he would do it again, without a doubt. But no. _No, no, no._ There was no way in hell he was about to apologize to Noa and Rose for what _they_ started, even though he fully understood on a deeper level that what he did really wasn't okay, no matter how seemingly justified. He still had some small shred of dignity, for what it was worth, and he wasn't about to toss it aside to apologize for a gut reaction to someone else's act of meanness.   
  
“Look, let's just talk about that part later,” Trisha suggested.   
  
“I think this needs to be discussed now,” Hohenheim countered.  
  
“I'm _not_ doin' it,” Ed insisted. “And you can't make me.”  
  
He stubbornly folded his arms and turned away from the appraising gaze of his father; the man may as well save his stupid breath. The child was already more than prepared to oppose his mother if need be, so strong was his opinion on the subject, so what chance did his useless excuse for a dad have?   
  
Hohenheim, looking every bit the man his son would grow to resemble, raised a brow at the challenge. “Young man, I most certainly _can_ make you, and I _will_ if need be.”  
  
 _“Hohenheim.”_ Trisha looked between her husband and her son, sensing the brewing storm. Why in the world must he get into a pissing match with a child? “Leave it alone for now.”  
  
“No you can't!” Ed shot back with a firm warning stamp of the foot. He turned to meet his father's defiant gaze head-on, furious at his presumption. “You can't tell me what to do!”  
  
“Edward, honey, please settle down,” Trisha said as calmly as she could, reaching forward and placing a soothing hand on the boy's back. “Your father just--”  
  
“He's not my dad!” Ed roared. Tears sprung to his eyes and his tiny body trembled with anger. “He's just... just...”

The eight-year-old saw Hohenheim stand up but he stood his ground, undeterred. Why should he have to be lectured by someone who hadn't even cared enough to stick around for over half of his life? This man was nothing to him, nothing at all. He was just...  
  
 _“... an asshole!!!”_  
  
*****  
  
Trisha was quick.  
  
Unfortunately, Hohenheim was quicker.  
  
Before she could pull Ed back and out of the way of her husband's hand, it struck the left side of the child's face with a horrifying and resounding smack that would haunt her for the rest of her life. And as all calm, mature, rational thought dissipated, a single thought remained, clear and coherent in the midst of blind, seething rage:  
  
She was going to hurt this man. Badly.  
  
*****  
  
Roy was worried. _Very_ worried.  
  
It had all happened so quickly that even now, he was hard pressed to understand any of it: Mrs. Elric, practically shoving Ed out of the house, her stern demand to take the boys over to the Rockbells before closing the door and locking it-- _l_ _ocking it!_ \--and Ed, looking so small and dazed... and no, the redness on his cheek had most certainly not gone unnoticed. Roy didn't dare ask about it in front of Al, who had remained blissfully unaware of anything out of sorts because he was ecstatic about seeing Winry, but the teenager planned on getting every last detail out of the boy the first chance he got.   
  
He peeked into the living room from the kitchen doorway yet again, his eyes quickly passing over Al and Winry as they huddled over a checkerboard to Ed, who sat motionless in Pinako's rocking chair, his tiny legs dangling limply as he stared blankly at the television screen. Aside from uttering the occasional acknowledgment to his brother, the child hadn't spoken since Trisha put him out of the house and sent them on their way, and Roy was almost beside himself with the urge to whisk him away to a place where he could talk to him in private.   
  
“Don't you worry a bit, young man. Ed's tougher than he looks.”   
  
Pinako Rockbell spoke without turning away from the stove, where she balanced herself on a step stool while hovering over an oversized pot of stew, her pipe dangling precariously from the corner of her mouth as she stirred.   
  
Roy raised a brow at the little old lady with the obscene-looking hair bun. What the hell would she even know about it? She had never had to witness Ed's broken heart, his doubt, his self-hate, none of it. “You think so?” he asked, hoping like hell that he didn't sound nearly as doubtful as he felt.  
  
Sensing the challenge in his query, Pinako set down the large wooden spoon and hopped off the stool. “Yes, I do,” she said, turning to face him. “That boy survived having an arm and a leg ripped off of his body. You hear me? _Ripped off._ Why, I don't think there's an adult on the face of this earth who could go through the ordeal of automail attachment without passing out, or even dying from the complications, as a few people have. But that child did.”  
  
“Yeah, but--”  
  
Pinako raised her hand and Roy immediately shut his mouth. “But nothing. Childhood is cruel. You're young, you must know that yourself. For someone like Ed, it'll be even crueler. Hell, there may never come a day when he knows peace because people are goddamn nasty and cowardly fuckers.”  
  
The corner of Roy's mouth twitched slightly at Pinako's assessment of the human race. If nothing else, the woman knew how to state her case, that was for sure.  
  
“What I'm trying to say, Roy... it _is_ Roy, isn't it?”  
  
“Yes, ma'am.”  
  
Pinako nodded. “Good, sometimes I think I'm going a little senile. Anyway, what I'm trying to say, Roy, is that Ed's the type who always bounces back. It's just the way he is. Whether or not he knows it yet, whether or not he believes it, he's a fighter, that one. And if he can deal with the automail and a bunch of snot-nosed little bastards, he can certainly deal with anything that good-for-nothing father of his throws at him.”   
  
She shuffled over to the kitchen table and dumped the contents of her pipe into an ashtray. Roy still didn't care for the smell but, perhaps because of the source, it was much more tolerable this time around. He supposed she had a point; Ed really was a resilient little shit, something he'd proven time and time again. But still...  
  
“How long would you say you boys have been here now?”  
  
“Um...” Roy blinked at the gaudy chicken-shaped clock on the wall. “About fifteen minutes or so.”  
  
“Plus the time it took for you to walk over here...” Pinako's brow creased as she debated the situation. After a moment, the small woman sighed and pulled a pouch of tobacco out of her pocket. “Not that I think she can't handle him, but I'll give her ten more minutes.”  
  
“... Then what?” the teen asked.  
  
“Then you get dinner for the kids,” Pinako told him. “And I get my gun.”  
  
*****  
  
“I could have you arrested for this.”  
  
Hohenheim's stomach rolled at the sight of his own blood swirling down the kitchen sink. He winced as he ran his tongue along his teeth, making sure one more time that they were all still accounted for before spitting another glob of blood and saliva into the stream of running water. His face felt like it was on fire and his mouth hurt like all hell, but even so, Hohenheim was awestruck once again over his wife's ability to pack such a mighty punch given such a delicate frame. Such brutality was hardly becoming for a woman, of course, but he was willing to forgive it given the circumstance; he was just that understanding of a fellow.  
  
Trisha carelessly tossed a first aid kit onto the counter beside him. She then took a seat at the table behind him and lit a cigarette, dragging slowly and deeply before exhaling a long plume of smoke, clearly content with his dissatisfaction over the act. “Go right ahead,” she told him.   
  
“You know that I wouldn't do that,” Hohenheim muttered. He rinsed out his mouth with a handful of water before turning off the faucet and set about rummaging around in the kit for something to treat the gashes on his cheek. They weren't deep; thankfully her nails were not that long. Still, it hurt like a son of a bitch. Not to mention the added inconvenience now of finding a suitable explanation for his appearance until they healed, lest he tell everyone that his wife kicked his ass, something his pride would never allow him to do.  
  
“You could have hit me back,” Trisha offered.   
  
Hohenheim grimaced as he pressed a pad soaked with iodine against his face. “You know I wouldn't do that either.”  
  
“But you'll hit a child?”  
  
“That... that was a reaction to the situation.”  
  
“A reaction, huh? Like the reaction your son had when a couple of stupid girls ruined something dear to him? You mean _that_ sort of reaction?” A snort of laughter escaped Trisha. “Jeez, Hohenheim, you better apologize,” she said, her voice brimming with bitter sarcasm.  
  
“I'm not denying that you have a point, Trisha,” Hohenheim said. “But like I told you before, that child is in need of some serious discipline.”  
  
“Hohenheim, even if that was true, that stopped being your concern a long time ago.” Trisha took another drag before continuing. “Besides that, you can't fault Ed for calling you an asshole. You _are_ an asshole.”  
  
Through a haze of smoke, Hohenheim met his wife's contemptuous gaze and let out a long sigh. Seconds stretched out into a full minute with nothing but the sound of silence between them, and for the first time, he realized just how very much she despised his presence, his very existence, even. However latent, it was a revelation that finally tore through the tough, thick wall of his ignorance and sense of entitlement when nothing else could... and it hurt.   
  
But be that as it may, as a father, he still had a job to do.  
  
“You know I love my son,” he finally said, turning away from her and grabbing a tube of antibiotic ointment from the first aid kit. “I love both my children. More than anything.”  
  
Trisha's expression softened slightly as she stared at the back of her husband's head while he slathered ointment on his face. A whole lifetime had passed, or so it seemed, since all she ever thought she would want was to lose herself in that man's gorgeous golden mane.   
  
Boy, how things had changed.  
  
“I know you do,” she conceded. “But you can't just love them on your terms. They are never going to live up to your fucked up ideal.”  
  
“Wanting them to have a decent life is not 'fucked up.'”  
  
“Who's to say that they won't have a decent life--a _wonderful_ life, even--just the way they are now? Besides people like you, telling them what you think is wrong with them?” Trisha twisted out her cigarette and pushed the ashtray aside. “Al is extremely sensitive and Ed is... probably gay. And there is nothing wrong with any of that. Considering the type of people out there they have to deal with every single day they leave this house, I'd much rather have sons who grow up wearing their hearts on their sleeves and taking it up the ass.”  
  
“Jesus, Trisha.”  
  
“Shut the fuck up.” Trisha glared at the man. “I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, Hohenheim. Twice. But I'm done trying,” she said, shaking her head. “I want you to leave them alone. Until the day comes when they're ready to accept you on _their_ terms, you stay the hell away from them. I mean it.”  
  
“You can't ask me to do that,” Hohenheim said. He closed the first aid kit and turned around, leaning against the counter. “You can't.”  
  
“I'm not asking you, I'm _telling_ you. And if you care anything about them at all, then you'll do it.” Trisha folded her arms. “For your sake as well as theirs,” she added softly.  
  
The subtle threat did not fall on deaf ears, but Hohenheim was smart enough not to pursue further clarification, especially not after witnessing firsthand the volatile wrath of a fiercely protective mother. While he still asserted that Ed was in desperate need of stricter, more _masculine_ discipline, now was most certainly not the time to broach the subject, not when the woman was still so willing and eager to pounce. And so he would retreat for now, licking his wounds and biding his time. But make no mistake, he wasn't done yet.  
  
When it came to his children, he never would be.   
  
*****  
  
He saw her standing by the house, smoking a pipe and leaning on a large double barrel shotgun that was almost as tall as she was.   
  
“Pinako? Wh-What are you doing out here?”  
  
“Oh, just taking a stroll. It's such a lovely evening and all,” the tiny, elderly woman replied. She smiled knowingly at Hohenheim's horrified expression. “Leaving so soon?”  
  
*****  
  
Roy peered closely into the bowl of stew with its various meats and vegetables floating about, not fully convinced that Pinako hadn't dropped pipe ash into it. After poking around in it with his spoon, which earned him a most adorable reprimand from both Al and Winry, Roy took a bite and decided that, ash or no ash, it was pretty damn good.   
  
He ate with gusto, surprised at himself that he wasn't nearly as concerned as he probably should have been that Pinako had just left for the Elric house. _With a gun._ However, guys like Hohenheim were pussies. It was easy for them to pick on kids but somehow, Roy didn't think he stood a chance in hell against Mrs. Elric; beneath the sweetness, the woman was quite the hardass. If anything, Roy knew that he should be more worried for _Hohenheim_ if the man was stupid enough to hit Ed, thinking he could get away with it unscathed.   
  
Not that he _was_ worried about him. Fuck him.  
  
Roy felt a heavy metal tapping against his knee, not quite hard enough to hurt but definitely enough to get his attention. He turned toward Ed, who almost hit him in the nose with the empty bowl clutched in his outstretched hand.   
  
“Can I have some more...please?” The eight-year-old scowled briefly as he remembered his manners. Not that he often forgot them--he just normally chose to exercise his right _not_ to use them.   
  
“Sure,” Roy said, taking little measure to suppress his smile. “Feeling better now?” he asked as he dished out a second helping for the boy.  
  
“I called him an asshole,” Ed blurted out suddenly and, to Roy's stunned amusement, rather proudly. The teen didn't know which was funnier: Ed's out-of-the-blue proclamation or the simultaneous gasping and eye-bulging of Al and Winry.   
  
“Ed! I'm tellin' Grandma you were swearing!” the little blond girl announced, duly appalled by her neighbor's potty mouth.  
  
“Miss Pinako swears all the time,” Ed pointed out.  
  
“She sure does,” Al concurred, nodding solemnly.  
  
“I would have to agree,” Roy added.  
  
Winry was at a loss, especially since she of all people knew that her grandmother could put sailors to shame with the scathing string of obscenities that had come flying out of her mouth over the course the years. “Yeah, but... but...”   
  
“Chicken butt,” Ed piped in, digging into his refilled bowl.   
  
Roy quickly shoved a spoonful of hot stew into his mouth to stave off his grin while the debate over bad words and chicken butts raged on around him. Sure enough, and much to the soothing of the teen's troubled mind, Ed seemed no worse for wear, if only for the time being.  
  
Now if he could just as easily make things right with Maes...  
  
*****  
  
The two ladies stood outside, smoking and listening to the sound of the children's laughter as it floated out to their ears. It was a joyous noise and it did Trisha's heart a world of good to hear it.   
  
Even so...  
  
“Pinako?”  
  
The older woman craned her neck to look at Trisha's worried countenance. “You haven't done a damn thing wrong, child... maybe except for letting that bastard walk out of your house with both of his balls in working order.”  
  
Trisha smiled gratefully at the woman's idea of consolation. “Thank you.”  
  
“Cut that out,” Pinako ordered, flinching at the sentiment. “Don't go getting all mushy on me. You know I hate that shit.”  
  
“I wouldn't dream of it,” Trisha promised with a chuckle.   
  
“Come on, then.” Pinako shoved the empty shotgun into a nearby flowerbed and beckoned to Trisha with her head. “Let's get inside before your boys eat me out of house and home.”  
  
After Pinako entered the house, Trisha paused in the doorway and looked over her shoulder into the fading light of the late evening sky, worry blooming on her beautiful face yet again.   
  
It didn't take a genius to know that Hohenheim would go right on being Hohenheim, and the world, in all of its seemingly infinite cruelty, would keep on turning. Their trials weren't over yet, not by a long shot.  
  
But they were over for _today_ , and that would have to do.  
  
 _“Mom!!! Ed won't stop singing about me and Winry sittin' in a tree!”_  
  
Trisha heard the frantic patter of feet drawing near and quickly put on her game face. She then stepped inside of the house and closed the door behind her, leaving her worries outside to die with the light.


	21. Chapter 21

“There you go,” Roy said, carefully tucking the blanket around Ed; a futile gesture, perhaps, considering just how much he flailed during the night. “Get some sleep.”

“I’m not sleepy,” Ed argued.

Roy gazed in fascination at the merrily fidgeting eight-year-old. Here, the kid was still a ball of energy after the fiasco that was the day’s events when Roy himself felt like collapsing. Then there was Trisha, who had looked decidedly exhausted as she tended to the boys’ nighttime bathing. Hell, even Al had all but fallen asleep the second his head hit the pillow. But yet the one who should have been most impacted by all of Hohenheim’s bullshit was seemingly no worse for wear, just as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (and scheming) as you please.

Then again, when it came to Ed, was it really any wonder?

“Too bad. Growing boys need their rest,” Roy replied, immediately cringing inwardly at his embarrassingly parental choice of words. Could he sound any lamer? He gave Ed a parting ruffle of the hair and turned to leave--

“Roy?”

Roy paused and looked over his shoulder, vaguely noting that the time he had invested in tucking was already proving to be a waste. Ed’s expression, while still bearing all the hallmarks of the endearingly devious runt that he was, had grown somewhat inquisitive.

“Hm?”

“… Did you fight because of me?”

A small, worried frown developed on Roy’s face over Ed’s question; once again, there he was, ready to blame himself for things that clearly weren’t his fault. 

“No, Ed. No.  It wasn’t because of you,” Roy insisted--a justifiable lie as far as he was concerned. But since Ed apparently knew something had happened between him and Maes, he felt as if he had to offer some sort of explanation. “It’s just…”

He sat down on the edge of the small bed and sighed harshly, staring out into the cluttered space of the eclectic bedroom. After a moment, he tried again. 

“It’s just that… sometimes… when people don’t agree about something… they can say some pretty stupid things to each other.”

_… you’re the last person I expected to be so fucking insensitive._

Roy closed his eyes as the sound of his own accusation resounded in his head. Maes was a lot of things, a _whole_ lot of things, but insensitive? No fucking way. 

“That’s dumb,” Ed piped in with all too perfect timing. “Al likes that stupid SpongeBob but I wouldn’t make him cry about it.”

“Ed, just the other week you cut up a yellow sponge and chased him around with all the pieces, screaming about how they were SpongeBob chunks,” Roy pointed out, trying to keep a straight face. If not for the fact that poor Al was fit to be tied during that particular incident, Roy had to admit that Ed’s little prank was all kinds of inappropriately hilarious. 

“Oh yeah.” 

Ed laughed devilishly over the memory of his joke. Roy finally broke down and chuckled at the child; it had been one of his better stunts, that was for sure.   

“But no, you would never make him cry about important things, would you?”

“Nope." 

“That’s a good thing. I guess every now and then people forget how to agree to disagree,” Roy mused. 

“Like my mom and dad?”

“Yeah, like them… but I think that’s mostly because of your dad.” It wasn’t the most diplomatic thing to say, but even so, Roy couldn’t resist. 

“Well," Ed said, propping himself up on one tiny elbow. “Don’t be stupid and fight with Maes.” He punctuated his demand with a small kick to Roy’s backside. 

Roy raised a curious brow at the order. “Why Ed, I didn’t realize you were his biggest fan all of a sudden.”

“I’m not!” Another kick, topped off with a scowl.   

Deciding it best to give in while he was ahead lest he end up with a black and blue ass cheek, Roy patted the assaulting foot and stood up. “Try to get some sleep,” he said softly.  “Goodnight.”

“’Night.” 

Ed stuck out his tongue and rolled over onto his side, and Roy could only shake his head and smile. The kid was, without a doubt, the worst kind of brat.

Who in their right mind wouldn’t love him?

*****

Maes’ incredulous laughter filled the car as the two teens headed home. It was such a joyful noise, one that Roy was very happy to hear, and a soft smile bloomed on his face at the sound of it. And it sure beat the hell out of the awkward silence that had enshrouded them when they first left the Elric house as neither boy had been willing or able to delve into the heart of the matter between them just yet. To be certain, Roy had never been more thankful for the chance to spin a simple question of ‘how was your day?’ into a long, winding tale of adventure that had already encompassed most of the car ride home. 

But now that the conversation was descending toward its inevitable conclusion, he felt that annoying and undeniable thread of fear weave its way throughout him yet again.

“A shotgun, huh?” Maes righted his glasses, never taking his eyes off the road. “That’s… that’s just…”

“Crazy, right?” Roy offered tentatively.

“Well, yeah… but kinda badass, too.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s too bad she didn’t shoot him.” Maes paused for a moment before making a brief amendment to his original statement. “In the foot or something, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Roy said again, not entirely certain of his boyfriend’s sincerity. Not that he truly believed that Maes wished actual harm on Hohenheim--no matter how much he deserved it--but he knew that nary a tear would be shed by _anyone_ if the man would have indeed suffered some debilitating injury at the hands of a somewhat wacky, vertically-challenged, pipe-smoking old woman.

And so, with that common ground reached regarding Pinako’s epic Calamity Jane-like display, silence once again surrounded them. Roy bit his bottom lip and stared out of the passenger side window at the night scenery, which was bland compared to larger cities, perhaps, but rather beautiful in its own right. His right foot began to shake vigorously, not unlike a certain holy terror presently sleeping snug in his bed. He knew what he wanted to say, what he _needed_ to say, but he just wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.

Fortunately, Maes solved that problem for him.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like an insensitive douchebag.”

Roy closed his eyes and smiled, the weight on his heart obliterated in an instant. “I’m sorry if I sounded like a _sensitive_ douchebag,” he countered. 

He waited for a moment to see if Maes would deny his claim and was satisfied when he didn’t. The teen was not without his opinions, after all, even in the midst of this unlikely lovers’ spat, and that was fine by Roy. Fine, expected, maybe even anticipated, to a degree.

“You were just trying to put this thing with Ed into perspective, I get that. I admit that I may not be the most… _unbiased_ person when it comes to that kid… but I know that much.” Roy sighed and watched as a McDonalds passed them by; boy that looked damn good right about now. “Besides, I’m not stupid, Maes. It’s not like we’re always going to see eye to eye on everything.”

“Like you, thinking Assassin’s Creed is the best video game ever made,” Maes said, his lips curving ever so slightly in the darkness of the car.

“Hey, that game’s awesome,” Roy asserted, somewhat defensively. “It’s definitely in the top ten.”

“Yeah, and you’re on crack.”

Maes reached over to Roy and grabbed his hand, intertwining the teen’s fingers with his own, and lowered both to his thigh, and Roy was overcome with a frighteningly sudden, almost unshakeable desire to say _it_ , the words were right there in his throat, practically begging to be spoken, so much so that he clenched his teeth in a last ditch effort to contain them. The urge was strong, so very, very strong, but in the end, for reasons he would contemplate at another time, he remained silent. 

Well, not exactly:

“I’m hungry.”

Maes glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, a curious, questioning look far removed from the gentleness he displayed while stroking Roy’s wrist with his thumb. “You didn’t eat dinner?”

“I had some stew earlier,” Roy said. “Flavored with pipe ash, I think.”

“Sounds delicious.”

“I know, right?”

The two teens grinned together and once again, just like that, it was over. As complete as his trepidation had been, Roy chided himself over worrying so much in the first place. After all, such had always been the relative ease with which they resolved their arguments, both big and small, and so it would remain… until that one fateful falling out some years later that would finally separate them for good. 

*****

“Shitfucker!”

Ed’s wide eyes darted toward his bedroom door. He was positive that his mother had heard him, even though she was downstairs doing housework. He knew all too well that moms had that eerie sense of hearing, like some lame, cookie-baking superhero whose ultimate power consisted of being able to tell when their ill-mannered children dropped the f-bomb, even when it was uttered as the barest hint of a whisper. 

When he was finally convinced he was in the clear, for now, Ed turned back to the checkerboard lying atop his poorly made bed--he had made it himself and had done a rather half-assed job, at that. Although Trisha had not expressly forbade him from indulging in his usual daytime activities during his suspension, Ed had opted against watching TV and sorting through his Transformers (although he conducted a regular count of them on account of Al’s tendency to “borrow” them) in favor of playing checkers by himself in an effort to beef up his skills for a rematch against Roy. That damn guy was really good at it, so good, in fact, that Ed was convinced he had to be cheating… like he had tried to do numerous times. The eight-year-old frowned as his small but highly intelligent mind worked out the ramifications of each potential move, envisioning each action and reaction. It would have been easier to practice with Al, Ed thought, except for the fact that his brother, God love him, was not always attentive when it came to such things.

Just as Ed placed a tiny automail finger on top of a red checker, he heard the doorbell and froze again, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. It wasn’t very often that he had the luxury of spending a school day at home, but he had enough sense to know that they never, _ever_ got much in the way of company out in these parts. Even Ed knew that if some salesman came knocking on the doors out this way, then he must be pretty damn hard up for business. 

But no, it wasn’t a salesman, was it? Ed knew that just as well as he knew his name. It was his goddamn, no good excuse for a father, coming to start more shit, he just _knew_ it. 

Ed tilted his head and strained to hear something, anything. But unlike mothers, little boys apparently did not possess super hearing.  Life was unfair like that, no doubt. For no discernable reason, Ed found himself thinking back to Roy’s words, about how sometimes grown-ups forgot to agree to disagree. He had taken quite a liking to that phrase, all the more, admittedly, because of the one who had spoken it, and he now found himself wishing with all of his heart that his parents could do that, if only for his mother’s sake. 

He leapt off the bed with an agility only known by the young and walked over to his bedroom door, which was half-open. Ed was wholly unaware that his right hand was now clenched into a tight metal fist, ready to wreak havoc upon unsuspecting faces and crotches at the first sign of trouble. In fact, he was so convinced that he would be ripping his father a new one that he was thrown completely off guard by the sound of Trisha’s voice calling out to him, neither pained nor anguished in the least, but rather… pleased?

What the hell?

_“Edward? Honey, could you come downstairs, please?”_

… What the _hell?_

*****

Trisha raised her hand again to smooth over her already flawless brunette locks but managed to stop herself at the last second; she’d already done so three times, any more and it would be hard for anyone not to notice what she was doing. And why. 

No, it was simply an honest reaction to having impromptu company, that was all, nothing more, nothing less… or so she attempted to tell herself. 

The fact that the impromptu company was Nash Tringham and his son had nothing, _nothing at all_ , to do with anything. 

She heard the distinct _pad-thump_ of her firstborn as he came down the stairs and turned to greet him, smiling like an idiot in spite of her best efforts not to do so. 

“Edward,” she said. “Mr. Tringham brought Russell over to spend some time with you.”

Ed approached his mother and stood by her side, mirroring the father-son duo in front of them. “Why aren’t you in school?” he asked Russell, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Did you get suspended too?”

“Nope. Dad said it was BS for you to get kicked out of school so he said I could stay home, too,” Russell said proudly. “Except he didn’t really say BS,” he added in a not-so-discreet conspirator’s whisper.

“Well…” Nash Tringham said, grinning nervously. “The exact words aren’t really important--”

“Bullshit!” Ed announced suddenly, to the shock of everyone.

“Edward!” Far beyond horrified, Trisha raised her hand to her brow in exasperation. That son of hers…

“What?” Ed blinked up at his mother-- _innocently_ , believe it or not. “That’s what BS stands for, right?”

Trisha opened her mouth and then closed it. Then she did it again. Eventually, she could only shake her head as Nash began laughing, a loud, hearty sound that filled the living room. It was quite nice. 

“Why don’t you take Russell up to your room?” she finally managed. “You could show him your transforming toys.”

 _“Transformers,”_ Ed corrected, shaking his head as he looked at Russell as if to apologize for his mother’s lack of common knowledge about the awesomeness of Optimus Prime and company. “Come on, Russell.”

“Cool!”

Russell walked over to Ed and grabbed him by the hand, his left hand, and Trisha was both amused and touched by the look of utter astonishment on her son’s face as he was practically led up the stairs. It was, in a word, adorable.

“They’re something, aren’t they?” Nash asked, his guffaws tapering down to a respectable chuckle. 

Trisha turned away from the stairs and found herself caught completely off guard by the pair of eyes regarding her with a kindness that she hadn’t felt from another man in a very long time. “They are, indeed,” she agreed, smiling a shy but radiant smile. “I just hope that my boy doesn’t teach yours some of his more… _colorful_ phrases of choice.”

Nash shrugged off her concern. “I’m sure it won’t be anything he hasn’t heard before,” he reassured her. “Kids these days, huh?”

“Yeah.” Trisha clasped her hands together, a seemingly solemn gesture designed to keep her from fidgeting like crazy--a trait that Ed did not steal, it would appear. “So, Mr. Tringham--”

“Nash.”

“ _Nash_ ,” she amended, wondering if she looked nearly as flushed as she felt. “How about some coffee?”

*****

Unaware that he was mere hours away from the most harrowing evening he would ever experience during his career as a babysitter, Roy struggled valiantly to quell the yawn that had been threatening to breach for the past ten minutes now. And failed. For the love of God, there was just nothing on earth more snooze-worthy than World History; by the time the teacher had begun droning on and on (and on and on) about the events leading up to the American Civil War, jamming a pen right into his eye sounded like a fucking marvelous idea. And far less painful, at that. Then, in a continuing effort to keep his mind from caving in on itself from the dull boredom of it all, he tried to imagine himself sporting an eye patch. Somehow, he didn’t think it would be a good look for him.

In the midst of his boredom, Roy looked around the room at his classmates. His eyes met Sheska’s and he bit his bottom lip to suppress the grin that tried its damnedest to surface because she was chewing a stick of gum like she was afraid it might jump out of her mouth and run for the hills. Heaven help anyone who ever French kissed her. Turning away from that oh-so-classy sight, Roy then glanced over at Maes, who had given up Maxim for FHM. He supposed it would only be a matter of time before the damn guy just started reading Playboy or Penthouse or Hustler right out in the open, chicks spread-eagle and all. And, even less shocking perhaps, Roy didn’t think that anyone would say jack shit about it.   

As if sensing Roy’s stare, Maes peeked over his ridiculous girly magazine at him and dropped him a quick, almost undetectable wink. Then, in an astonishing display of a teenaged boy’s idea of couth, Maes turned the magazine around and regaled Roy with a picture of a certain celebrity singer/actress who was about as naked as humanly possible without legally being classified as such. Roy squeezed his eyes shut and turned away; even if he hadn't been a card-carrying homo, that type of display really wasn’t his thing. When he opened his eyes again, Maes was pointing at the singer/actress’ enormous, medically altered cleavage with his eyebrows raised in query, seeking Roy’s opinion. Naturally, Roy’s response was to--

“Mr. Mustang,” the instructor said calmly, his voice never wavering from its robotic drone. “I understand why you may feel a sense of displeasure over the actions of the South, but I hardly believe that _flipping the bird_ is an adequate way to express yourself.”

*****

“Asshole.”

Roy glared at Maes as students filed out of the classroom. He would have gladly knocked that shit-eating grin right off of his face if not for the fact that it looked so good on him. 

“And you,” he continued, turning toward Sheska. “You’re no better, laughing at me like that in front of everybody.”

“I’m sorry,” Sheska said/chomped with humor in her eyes, clearly anything but. She lifted herself up on her toes and planted a wet, spearmint-flavored kiss on Roy’s cheek before sprinting out of the classroom. “See you guys at lunch!” she called out over her shoulder, her generous cleavage bouncing mightily with each step.

“She’s gonna knock herself out if she keeps running like that,” Maes theorized. “So anyway,” he said, casting a gorgeous emerald gaze Roy’s way. “Are you done hating me?”

 _Why_ did he have to be such a regular Prince Fucking Charming?

“Yes,” Roy said, tucking his textbook under his arm and sliding his pen behind his ear. “But you’re buying my lunch.”

“Okay.”

“For the next week.”

“Aw, _come on_ , man…”

*****

It was funny, all the things one might miss had he or she not known to look for them.  Not necessarily funny ha-ha, not even funny strange, just… funny. 

For instance, two friends, walking down a crowded high school hallway, laughing and having the time of their lives. Nothing out of the ordinary about that, right? 

That was, until one chose to look just a little bit closer. 

Of course, it could be paranoia talking, especially in these modern times when it seemed that the gay thing was pretty much everywhere. But Maes was, by not only his own admission but dozens of _firsthand_ accounts, a stark raving man-whore. At the rate he was going, it would be a miracle if his cock didn’t fall off by the time he was twenty. And as for Roy, well, yes, he was a bit of a mystery. Was he gay or wasn’t he? For those who had ever cared to ask the question, the answer was still out of reach. Sure, he seemed awfully close with Riza, but since when did proximity equal pairing? 

While it seemed highly unlikely that the two of them were actually more than the best of friends, sometimes, not often, but _sometimes_ , it seemed as if there was a moment, so brief that one had to wonder if it had taken place at all, in which a look or a touch or a laugh would be shared, something that looked like more than the standard bromantic exchange.

Something _deeper._  

And so their silent observer hung back, watching with a mild tilt of the head as the pair descended down the hallway, the question still looming, begging to be answered for certain, one way or another. It was absolutely improbable, the idea of Maes and Roy being together _that_ way…

But still, you just never knew. 


	22. Chapter 22

All blond boys were _clearly_ a product of the devil.

At that moment, no one on earth could have convinced Roy Mustang otherwise.

The sixteen-year-old eased silently along the side of the Elric house, water gun full and poised at the ready, his eyes wide and alert as he listened for any indication of his stalkers. Ed’s silence was almost never a good sign, and now that he had an accomplice, Roy was doubly concerned about his fate.

He reached the back of the house and slowly peered around the corner… and was met with a sudden blast of water straight to the face. Although he couldn’t see the little bastard for being attacked with the water hose, the sound of Ed’s overjoyed cackling filled his ears, simultaneously precious and evil. Roy opened his mouth to accuse the boy of cheating in their impromptu game of water tag and was nearly suffocated when another burst of H2O impeded his progress by way of hitting the back of his throat and gagging him. Russell, who had seemed like such a sweet kid when first introduced to Roy earlier that day, let out an evil chuckle of his own as he aimed the second hose nozzle at the defenseless teen and tried his best to drown him.

Closing his mouth lest he ingest more water than he already had, Roy shot blindly at the two pint-sized terrors to no avail; the pitiful stream of his gun was nothing compared the force of not one but two water hoses--and really, who the hell needed two of those damn things behind their house anyway? Moving in for the kill, Ed and Russell advanced as far as their respective hoses would allow and Roy was left with no other alternative than to retreat. He turned to run back to the safety of the front of the house whereupon his backside was immediately soaked, shirt, jeans, underwear and all.

And so, to reiterate: all blond boys were _clearly_ a product of the devil.

*****

Because Roy had never done anything as spontaneous as, say, get drunk and dive and/or fall into a random body of water unlike a certain group of hoodlums he knew very well, he had never experienced the discomfort of wearing wholly waterlogged clothing until today. It was, in a word:

“Gross.”

The disgruntled young man stood just outside the front door of the Elric house and stared down at himself in disbelief. Wet cotton and denim clung heavily to him, _everywhere_ , and it felt so unbelievably disgusting that he would have much rather walked around naked if not for his present company. Said present company watched him from a safe distance, wearing matching expressions of curiosity and poorly disguised amusement. Neither Ed nor Russell had thought ahead to the possible fallout involved with soaking Roy, and while they felt a little bad for doing what they did ( _just_ a little, since Roy was the one who started it, or so they convinced themselves) they simply could not deny the humor of seeing the poor, pitiful soul standing there with an agitated scowl and looking like a drowned rat. It was most hilarious.

Even so, Ed found that once again, his conscience could only ignore so much where his babysitter was concerned. For as much as he loved to torment Roy, deep down, he really did hate to see him suffer.

_Way_ deep down.

“Roy?”

Ed took a tentative step towards the teenager--but still smartly remained out of arm’s reach.

Roy ignored him, too lost in ruminating on how the fuck he was going to proceed from this point. It wasn’t like he had anticipated needing a change of clothing, although in hindsight he realized that such things should probably be standard operating procedure where Ed was concerned, along with some sort of overall body armor perhaps… and a protective cup for his junk. He couldn’t very well drip throughout Mrs. Elric’s house for the next few hours but neither could he stand there all night hoping to air dry. It was bad enough that he was already starting to get cold.

_“Roy.”_

Like nails down a chalkboard, that voice. “What is it, Ed?” he asked, favoring the youngster with a dark glare.

“I think that my mom still has some clothes that were… _his_ ,” the eight-year-old said, his face scrunching with notable distaste over the mere mention of his father. “You could wear ‘em while we dry your stuff,” he offered.

While Roy found the idea of wearing Hohenheim’s clothing downright nauseating, the idea of freezing to death did not appeal, either. “Fine,” he muttered.

Equating his response to forgiveness, Ed beamed joyously, and Roy frowned and turned away from the cuteness of it all.  Fuck if he was about to let that little deviant off the hook so easily. Ed sprinted into the house, and only upon hearing the slamming of the door did Roy’s expression soften in spite of his best efforts to the contrary, his lips curving upward ever so slightly into a smile.

“Sorry, Roy.”

Jumping at sound of Russell’s voice, Roy turned to face the other culprit in his near-drowning. Funny, the kid didn’t seem nearly as evil without Ed hovering about.

“Ed said it would be okay,” the boy continued.

“Oh, did he now?”

Russell nodded emphatically. “He said you wouldn’t be mad because you’re so awesome.”

Roy gaped at the child, not quite sure of what he just heard. His astonishment was also compounded by a sense of déjà vu as he thought back to a conversation with Al along the same vein when he had first started this babysitting gig.

“Ed thinks I’m awesome?”

“Mm-hm.” Russell nodded again, his blond hair falling into his face as he did. “Know what?”

“What?”

“I do, too.”

The teen regarded the cherubic smile of his newest enemy and tried to ascertain the precise moment when he started becoming such a fucking sucker for an innocent face, regardless of sincerity. It was probably somewhere along the time he met Maes. With a long, drawn out sigh, Roy resigned himself to his fate as a pushover and favored Russell with a reluctant lopsided smile of his own.

“Thanks, Russell. I guess you’re not too bad yourself.”

The front door swung open and Ed hollered for him while holding a bundle of clothing in the crook of one small, automail arm. Roy headed towards the doorway and Russell immediately fell into stride beside him like some sort of minuscule sentinel. It was annoyingly adorable.

While he still _firmly_ believed that those two shared a special kinship with Satan, he found that he was willing to overlook their demonic lineage. For now, at least.

He had the whole evening left to go.

*****

The white dress shirt billowed around Roy in all directions, and it reminded him vaguely of maternity clothing. The dress pants weren’t much better; they were a dreadfully boring tan and he had a hell of a time keeping them up even with the man’s belt cinched as tightly as it would go around his slim waist. Worse yet, because of the state of his underwear, he was unavoidably commando. The teen was hard-pressed not to feel like some sort of creepy (and pregnant) vagrant in Hohenheim’s clothes, as baggy and lame as they were. And while he wasn’t exactly sure why Mrs. Elric had kept them--surely it was just an unfortunate oversight on her part--he wondered if she would miss them if they should just so happen to end up burnt to a smoldering and unrecognizable lump of nothing.

He wandered into the kitchen on cold and bare feet, pointedly ignoring the chortling of his audience of two as he passed them by. Little shits, the pair of them. But yet Roy found that his heart was a little less hardened when he considered just how happy Ed sounded. After everything he had gone through recently, the brat deserved at least that much. That Russell kid, he really was a bit of alright. And in spite of their collective torture, Roy was profoundly glad--relieved, even--that Ed had such a willing partner in crime. He knew all too well just how rare and important genuine friendships could be. Hopefully Russell was in it for the long haul; Ed didn’t open himself up like this to many people.

After rooting around in the fridge for a moment, Roy settled on heating up a leftover roast; after a day like today, he didn’t feel like doing anything too high maintenance in the culinary department. He grabbed the pot and placed it on the stove, and turned the oven on to pre-heat. Roy then opted to bake some potatoes as an accompaniment in lieu of peeling and mashing them, and surely there was some manner of vegetable around there somewhere he could add to the menu. As he rooted around in the cabinets, he wondered how long Mrs. Elric would be gone on her non-date; she had expressly denied that her excursion with Russell’s father to take Al and Fletcher to that Chuck E. Cheese knockoff with the horrendous pizza was anything other than a play date for the two children (Ed and Russell had refused to go, being the “big boys” that they were). It had been rather cute, her rampant insistence of innocence. But good for her, as far as Roy was concerned. If anyone besides Ed deserved to be happy, it was definitely Ed’s mother.

His eyes passed over a can of peas--no, thanks--and happened upon some corn. That would do. He grabbed a couple of cans and placed them on the counter, then shoved the roast and potatoes in the oven. Easy enough. After washing his hands, Roy made his way back into the living room, where Ed and Russell were sitting side by side on the couch, undoubtedly plotting something wicked. Well, no, that wasn’t really fair, was it? What evilness could they have possibly concocted in the few minutes it had taken him to get dinner going?

He soon found out by way of the thumbtacks that burrowed their way into his left ass cheek as he sat down on a nearby chair.

Satanic imps- 2, Roy- 0.

*****

“Roy?”

“Yeah?”

Roy peered over the open lid of the dryer and spotted Ed watching him solemnly, with his right hand leaning against doorway of the basement and his left hidden behind his back--not such a good sign, historically speaking. However, gone was the mischievous countenance that had taken far too much pleasure in watching the young man sit at a slant for the duration of dinner on account of a sore behind. Now that there were no third party witnesses, Ed’s sincerity was evident.

“Is your stuff dry yet?”

“Yep.” Roy grabbed the warm clothing from the dryer, but not before tucking his underwear inside of his jeans. Somehow, the thought of Ed seeing them weirded him out. “Everything’s good.”

“’Kay.” The child let out a small sigh and took a sudden interest in his feet. “Sorry ‘bout that,” he muttered softly. “… And… your butt.”

In spite of his still sore ass, Roy burst out into a fit of laughter. Honestly, what else could he do?

“Thanks, Ed.” He stared at the tiny enigma before him. “I don’t suppose you could just _try_ to take it easy on me for the rest of the night, could you?”

The eight-year-old raised his head to meet Roy’s gaze. “I’ll think about it,” he said coyly, sticking out his tongue for good measure.

Shaking his head, Roy closed the dryer door. “I guess that’ll have to do.”

“I have a screw loose.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Roy muttered.

“No, I mean…” Ed brought his left hand from behind his back and presented Roy with a screwdriver. “I have a _screw_ loose. Here.” He held up his automail arm and used the tip of the screwdriver to point to one of the screws on the top of his right hand. “See?”

“Ohhhh.”

Roy set his clothes aside and walked over to Ed. He knelt down cautiously (in the event of an attack) and peered down at the metal hand in question. One of the smaller screws that Roy assumed held that part of Ed’s limb in place did indeed appear to be in need of some tightening. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Just sometimes,” Ed replied, handing him the screwdriver.

Roy took Ed’s hand into his and slid the tip of the tool into the depression at the head of the screw. Seizing the handle in a death grip, he began cautiously rotating the screwdriver clockwise, half-expecting Ed to yelp in pain at any moment even though he knew full well the child couldn’t feel what he was doing.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“’Yeah.”

The boy gave Roy a reassuring pat on the head with his left hand. Oddly comforted by the simple gesture, Roy continued the task, taking note of the cool, heavy weight resting against his palm. He was still very much fascinated by Ed’s automail, awed by it, and after his conversation with Pinako, he couldn’t begin to imagine the hell that Ed must have gone through to acquire it--nor did he want to. The only thing he knew for certain was that Edward Elric was braver than he could ever hope to be. Without a doubt.

At the first hint of resistance, Roy stopped, as he did not want to risk stripping the screw. He placed the screwdriver on the floor beside him and admired his handiwork. “How’s that?”

Ed, who would never admit to another living soul that he had momentarily envisioned Roy proposing to him in his present position, glanced down at this hand. He couldn't have cared less about the damn screw, truth be told. Instead, he was committing to memory the image of his hand in Roy’s, locking it away for safekeeping and frequent future recall.

“Good,” he said. “… Thank you.”

Out of the entire myriad of facets to Ed’s persona, Roy found that it was still the youngster’s rare and heartfelt moments of gratitude that he treasured the most. He smiled warmly at the boy’s flushed face, utterly clueless as to the real reason behind his embarrassment.

“You’re welcome.” Roy let go of Ed’s hand--completely oblivious to the look of disappointment that passed over his face--and stood up. “Go on, I’ll be there after I’m done changing.”

“’Kay.”

Ed picked up the screwdriver and darted out of the room, and Roy waited until he heard the familiar footfalls overhead before grabbing his things and leaving the basement. He slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind him, then eagerly rid himself of Hohenheim’s clothes in exchange for his own. His sneakers were still air drying outside and probably wouldn’t be completely dry any time soon, but his socks, which were quite toasty from the dryer, would do for now. Looking down at the haphazard pile of garments on the floor, Roy contemplated using them in a wide variety of colorful ways, from blowing his nose to wiping his ass, before his manners got the better of him, and he folded them neatly and placed them atop the hamper.

When he was finished, he went into the living room, where Ed and Russell were sitting on the floor amidst a sea of Transformers.  It seemed almost criminal, playing with first generation toys like that; in mint condition, Ed’s collection was probably enough for a down payment for a car, and then some. Inspired by the child’s indifference to their worth, Roy occasionally thought about opening his own pristine Optimus Prime figure. But usually, the idea just made his stomach turn. He could never do it. Ever.

“Are you guys hungry?” They had eaten dinner less than two hours ago, but considering Ed’s appetite, it was always better to ask.

The two boys shook their heads and resumed playing. After carefully inspecting the sofa for foreign objects, Roy took a seat and watched them. Better that than the crap currently playing on the television. Honestly, Mrs. Elric really needed some damn cable.

“Me Grimlock gonna kick your butt!” Ed growled, waving the transforming T-rex in the air.

Regrettably, Roy was too busy trying to conceal his amusement over the display to understand for whom the threat was intended. The realization hit him soon enough by way of the Dinobot that beaned him right in the nose.

“Transformers, attack!” Russell screamed happily.

“What the f-- _Hey!_ ”

Before the teen could get another word in, he found his face being pummeled mercilessly with a barrage of robots in disguise, in spite of his best efforts to shield himself. After running out of projectiles, Ed and Russell bolted upstairs for the safety of Ed’s room, leaving Roy to stew. Perhaps not so surprising was the fact that he was probably more horrified by the gross mistreatment of the classic toys than the assault on his person.

The clock on the wall beyond the television read seven-thirty. If there was a God, or an _Anything_ , Mrs. Elric would be back within the hour. But as it turned out, she never got that memo. Two more hours would pass before she finally made it home with a sleeping Al in tow.

Roy’s brand new black eye, unfortunately, wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Game, set, match: spawn of Hell.

*****

“Whoa, you look like shit!”

“Thanks, prick.”

Ignoring Maes’ stunned expression, Roy eased into the passenger seat and let his head fall back against the headrest. As Maes drove away, Roy regaled him with the story of his afternoon and evening, sparing no detail unlike he had done with Mrs. Elric out of the kindness of his heart--although the woman was hardly an idiot and surely knew her son had done something much more heinous than Roy had let on.

After the Transformers bombing, Ed and Russell emerged from Ed’s bedroom an hour later, spurred on by their hunger. They had cleaned up without being asked to do so and even offered the teen an apology, although last Roy knew, apologies usually weren’t accompanied by fits of giggling.  While Ed did offer a more heartfelt condolence as he was being tucked in, the damage was done… or so Roy desperately wanted to believe before he forgave him yet again.

“So you got your ass handed to you by a couple of eight-year-olds,” Maes concluded after Roy had finished talking. “And your naked junk was caressing the inside of that asshole’s pants.”

“ _Oh, fucking gross!_ That’s not funny,” Roy grumbled.

“I’m not laughing.”

Roy narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. Maes actually wasn’t laughing… but he was close to it. “Jerk.”

“Yeah,” Maes conceded with a smirk. “Man, when did you get to be such a pushover?”

“I wonder,” Roy replied, leveling a gaze at the teen.

“Oh well.” Without taking his eyes off the road, Maes reached over to Roy and grabbed his hand. “My parents are gone for the night.”

“Surprise, surprise.”

“I know, right? Anyway, I’m going to make us a late dinner.”

“Pizza?”

“Hamburger Helper.  Even I can't fuck that up."  
  
"You would think."  
  
"Shut up.  I’m going to crack open a bottle of Jack while you build us a fire, then we’re going to sit in front of it, eat, get shitfaced, and…”

“And?”

Maes let go of Roy’s hand and placed it on his thigh. “You know. Whatever.”

“Dude, I took a Jetfire to the eye and had thumbtacks in my ass and that’s all you can think about?” Roy tried to sound scandalized, but Maes’ hand was more than a bit distracting, especially since it had been a while since they had last fooled around. At least, a while as far as a teenage male’s hormones were concerned.

“Sorry.”

“Liar.”

“Right again.”

“… Drive faster.”

Sore or not, Roy found that a quiet evening with Maes was a damn perfect way to end the night and he found his anticipation growing with each passing mile.

It seemed, however, that Jean, Riza, and Sheska had other plans.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he said as they pulled into the driveway. The absolute last thing Roy wanted was to walk into a house full of idiots with a black eye and half a hard-on.

Maes parked the car behind Jean’s. “Don’t worry. They won’t be staying,” he reassured him.

The two teens exited the car and walked towards the house.

“Hey, assholes!” Maes called out as he stormed through the front door, too caught up in his objective to notice the way the trio was gesturing, practically flailing, in an effort to get his attention. “Get the fuck out so Roy and I can--oh. Hello.”

Roy froze behind Maes, his face and his crotch suddenly the furthest things from his mind.

“Hey there… Gracia.”

“Hi, Roy.” Gracia smiled kindly before turning her attention back to Maes. “So you and Roy can what?”


	23. Chapter 23

Roy nearly pissed himself when he realized just how close Maes had come to outing them in front of Gracia. Not that he cared so much about his own fate in that regard, but he hardly thought that Maes was prepared to deal with the fallout involved with openly dating a guy, especially given his reputation as a poon hound. And since he naturally assumed that Maes felt the same way to some degree, in spite of his seemingly blasé attitude to the contrary, he almost pissed himself again when Maes, in response to the girl’s innocent query, slung his arm around Roy’s shoulder and loudly proclaimed that they wanted to be alone so that they could fuck like bunnies.  
  
And judging by the reactions of Jean, Riza, and Sheska, it appeared as if he wasn’t the only one in danger of losing bladder control.  
  
But thankfully, _miraculously_ , it was perhaps his own look of absolute horror that caused Gracia to burst into a fit of laughter.  
  
“Very funny,” she said, shaking her head over the preposterousness of his announcement.  
  
“Yeah, fucking hilarious,” Riza muttered. Roy thought it was a good thing that Gracia could not see how annoyed she appeared to be. He also thought that he might not be the only one sporting a black eye by the end of the night.  
  
In hindsight, Roy had to admit that it was actually a rather genius move on Maes’ part, saying the one thing that would sound the most unbelievable to the one person among them who had no idea of the true nature of their relationship. But he was presently too busy being relieved to truly appreciate the gesture.  
  
Now that the ice was broken, the teens made themselves comfortable in the living room, with Gracia planting herself right beside Maes. When Roy did not think that he could stomach her fawning for another minute, he excused himself to go into the kitchen and proceeded to raid the refrigerator. He spotted a bag of sliced ham, contemplated whether or not it was supposed to look the way it looked, and decided to grab it anyway. As he turned back to the counter, Riza was standing there, her expression most apologetic.  
  
“What the fuck, Riza?”   
  
“I know, I’m sorry.” Riza eyeballed the bag of sliced ham and contemplated whether or not it was supposed to look the way it looked. “But she kind of invited herself. What was I supposed to say? ‘No Gracia, you can’t tag along because the object of your affection wants to make out with Roy?’”   
  
Roy sighed in resignation. Maes was a chick magnet. He understood that, even if he didn’t always like it.   
  
“Here,” he said, offering his friend a slice of ham. “Eat this and tell me if it’s any good.”  
  
Riza cringed. “Are you kidding? I’d rather eat…”   
  
Before she could list all of the other things she would rather put in her mouth besides questionable pork products, she paused and took a good, long look at his face.  
  
“What the hell happened to your eye?”  
  
“Transformers.” Roy shuddered at the sudden memory of projectile vintage toys and the merciless cackling of children with no souls. “If I ever talk about having kids, do me a favor and punch me in the nuts, okay? _Hard_.”  
  
“Will do,” Riza promised, smiling cheerfully at the prospect.  
  
A little too cheerfully, perhaps.  
  
*****  
  
“Ed, this doesn’t make any sense.”  
  
Ed grinned as he watched Russell frown into a manga, having once again forgotten the cardinal rule.  
  
“You hafta read it backwards,” he reminded the boy. Using a tiny automail digit as a guide, he started at the top right panel of the manga page and slowly moved it towards the left, in the order the story was meant to be read. “See?”  
  
Attentive blue eyes followed the path of Ed’s finger. “Ohhhhh.”  
  
They were stretched out on top of Russell’s sleeping bag amongst a sea of manga and toys, side by side, wide awake well past their regularly scheduled bedtime. But since neither of them would be attending school the next day, and since Trisha didn’t have it in her to deny her son his happiness so long as said happiness did not include physical harm to others, they indulged themselves in fiction, unwilling to call it a night just yet. And while Ed had already read each of his books numerous times, he gladly read them again. Somehow, it was just more fun doing so in the company of a friend.  
  
Friend. The word still felt weird to him. But he liked it all the same.  
  
“Shee-nee-gah-mee,” Russell said, carefully enunciating one of the book’s trickier words.   
  
“Shinigami,” Ed responded with a nod.  
  
“Cool.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I wish we could do this every night.” Russell set the manga aside and rifled through the pile for another one. “Let’s get suspended next week, too.”  
  
Ed giggled merrily. It was a wonderful idea as far as he was concerned.   
  
“I don’t think my mom would like that too much,” he pointed out. “But I don’t think she would care if you came over on the weekends. And you can come over every day after school is out, too.”  
  
Russell settled on a manga that bore a picture of a spiky-haired boy on the cover, as did most of the manga that Ed owned. He had no idea on earth what a dragonball was, but he was eager to find out. “I can’t. I gotta go visit my mom for the summer,” he said regretfully. “Me and Fletcher both. It was part of the divorce thingy. Agreement or whatever they call it.”  
  
“Oh.” Ed was disappointed and somewhat fascinated by the revelation. Disappointed for obvious reasons and fascinated because he could not begin to imagine that sort of arrangement, having to split one’s life between two parents. While he would soon rather eat liver and drink milk every single day for the rest of his life than spend any time with his own father, Russell’s lack of disgust indicated that this was something he did not entirely dread.   
  
“They’re still friends, my dad and mom,” Russell continued. “They just stopped liking each other _like that._ ”  
  
Ed nodded in understanding. Even at the young age of eight, he knew that parents were supposed to like each other _like that_ or else it was just no good.   
  
Russell casually turned a page. “I think my dad kinda likes your mom _like that._ ”   
  
“Yeah,” Ed agreed. And if Trisha’s total and utter giddiness around Russell’s father was any indication, he strongly suspected that the feeling was mutual. He supposed that most kids in his situation would not want to consider the possibility that their parent would eventually move on with their lives and find someone new. But Ed just wanted his mom to be happy, no matter what. That was all.   
  
The boys continued reading until the words began to blur. Hours later, Trisha found them sprawled out across the floor, dead to the world. She quietly traversed the books and toys--making a mental note to make Ed clean his room after she stepped on the sharp edge of a transforming vehicle with her bare foot--grabbed the blanket from Ed’s bed, and covered them both.   
  
Breakfast could wait.   
  
*****  
  
“Good morning, sexy thing.”  
  
Roy scowled at the sound of Maes’ disgustingly chipper voice. With his disheveled hair, eyes full of gunk (or sleep snot, as a certain blond terror so eloquently called it), and morning breath, the last thing Roy felt was sexy.   
  
Last night, when he had his fill of Gracia’s adoration, Maes had brazenly asked her to move so that Roy could sit next to him, under the guise of playing a video game. After almost an hour of watching Scorpion and Sub-Zero duke it out, as well as having to endure Sheska’s long-winded theory of how the two characters were rampantly gay for one another, Gracia finally asked to be taken home. Roy had almost felt bad for the girl. _Almost._  
  
After everyone left, the two teens settled in for some quality alone time. But shortly after, Roy fell asleep, sprawled out across the couch and dead to the world. Apparently, being assaulted with water and thumbtacks and Transformers was more exhausting than he had anticipated, and he did not wake up until just now, with only half an hour to spare before they had to leave for school.  
  
“I made eggs,” Maes informed him, pulling him up by the arms.   
  
“Why didn’t you wake me up last night?” Roy croaked. He rubbed at his face, wincing slightly as his fingers passed over his sore eye.  
  
“Because you looked so cute snoring your ass off.”  
  
“Fuck you.”  
  
Maes chuckled. He then leaned over and kissed the top of Roy’s head. “Go get dressed.”  
  
Roy rose with a grunt and headed into the bathroom while Maes disappeared into the kitchen. After taking the world’s quickest shower--the treatment he suffered at the hands of Ed and Russell seemed to last much longer by comparison--he made his way into the kitchen where a plate of scrambled eggs awaited him at the counter. He dug in and found them shockingly edible, as opposed to the ham he ended up discarding the night before.  
  
“If Ed and Russell don’t manage to kill you tonight, I was thinking that maybe we could try again,” Maes said, moving in beside him with a glass of orange juice.  
  
“Try what?” Roy asked.  
  
Green eyes sparkled knowingly. “You know. Whatever.”  
  
Roy helped himself to Maes’ juice. “Sounds good. Unless we end up having to entertain girls with crushes on you again,” he said between sips.   
  
“Not gonna happen.” Maes retrieved his glass and drained what was left. “I’m going to talk to her today.”  
  
Oh boy. Roy was all too familiar with the fallout of Maes’ talks, which more often than not ended with a poor girl in tears. And because he genuinely liked Gracia, boyfriend ogling aside, he had no desire to see her upset.   
  
“Just be nice, okay? Don’t make her suffer because she had the misfortune of falling for your charm.”  
  
“Hey, I’m _always_ nice,” Maes insisted. “And of course I don’t want to hurt her. She’s a great girl. But I can’t help that I’m in love with an even greater guy.”  
  
He placed the empty glass in the sink and gave Roy a swat on the ass. And if he noticed the way Roy's fork was paused in the air, he did not mention it.  
  
“Hurry up or we’re gonna be late.”  
  
Roy watched him leave the kitchen, his eggs forgotten. _Everything_ was forgotten, in fact, except for the teen’s nonchalant admittance of his true feelings.   
  
At that moment, it did not seem possible that Roy would ever stop smiling.  
  
*****  
  
Later that evening, Roy stared suspiciously at his Uno hand and then stared even more suspiciously at the child who was staring suspiciously at the ceiling.   
  
“Edward Elric.”  
  
“Hm?” Ed blinked innocently at him, thus giving himself away.  
  
Roy rested his elbows on the kitchen table and raised a questioning brow at the eight-year-old. “You wouldn’t happen to be hiding all of the Draw Four cards over there, would you?”  
  
Ed looked so offended that it was comical. “Why do you always think I’m cheating?” he asked, horrified by the suggestion… and very likely equally as horrified that he had been found out.   
  
“Because Brother is a big, fat, stinky cheater,” Al happily piped in from beside Roy, never taking his eyes off the page that he was coloring. He had given up on Uno two games ago when it became apparent that he was never going to win.  
  
“Shut up, Al,” Ed growled. “And give me a cookie.”  
  
“Say please.”  
  
 _“Now.”_  
  
“Ed…” Roy began.  
  
Ed frowned. “Fine. Please _now_.”  
  
Al selected a cookie from the plate that had mysteriously found its way right beside him. After concluding that it wasn’t better suited for his own mouth, he handed it over to his brother.   
  
“Now, Ed. What do you say?” Roy once again found himself cringing at his own parent-talk.  
  
“‘Bout damn time,” Ed said proudly before shoving the entire cookie into his mouth.   
  
Roy raised his cards to his face to conceal his smile.   
  
The afternoon and evening had gone spectacularly well. Russell and Ed were eerily well-behaved. Roy thought his eye may have had something to do with that, judging by their matching looks of shock upon seeing it. Al was also shocked, though that did not stop him from poking it with his finger and asking Roy if it hurt. After Russell’s father picked him up, the trio sat down to dinner (Mrs. Elric had baked a ham and Roy loved her for it), and afterwards, Ed and Al bathed without complaint. Still riding high from Maes’ impromptu declaration, Roy was so pleased with the lack of violence and tantrums that, yes, he was willing to overlook a little swearing and card hoarding.   
  
“I’m tellin’ Mom!”   
  
Apparently Al was not so willing.   
  
“Tattletale.”  
  
“Milk drinker.”  
  
“You take that back!” Ed shot up out of his seat, prepared to rain doom… but the only thing that rained were the Draw Four cards he had been hiding under his bum that fluttered down to the floor when he stood up.   
  
Roy and Al gaped at the cards.   
  
By the time they looked up, Ed was long gone.   
  
*****  
  
After Ed and Al were tucked in for the night, Trisha and Roy stood outside, enjoying the coolness of the night air as they waited for Maes to arrive.   
  
“So I hear my son is a big, fat, stinky cheater,” she said as she lit a cigarette.  
  
Roy could only grin. Al had been entirely too eager to fill his mother in on all of Ed’s wrongdoings when she got home. “Well… yeah.”  
  
“Edward,” she mused, dragging deeply. “Like I keep saying, Roy, sometimes I don’t think I pay you nearly enough.”  
  
While there was a time when Roy would have wholeheartedly agreed, like _yesterday_ , he merely shrugged and said, “It’s no big deal.”  
  
“Tell that to your fucking eye.”   
  
Roy snorted unexpected laughter. He did not think that he would ever tire of seeing this side of the boys’ mother, all smoking and witty and cursing and lovely.   
  
Trisha ground out one smoke and lit another. Since she would not have her next one until tomorrow night, it seemed a fair trade. When she was finished, she tossed Roy his lighter and continued puffing away, regaling him with tales of play dates gone awry (namely about how both Al and Fletcher had thought it perfectly acceptable to crawl up skee ball ramps to earn as many points as possible and how, as a result, she and Nash Tringham had to crawl up the skee ball ramps after them) while Roy, in turn, gave her a brief rundown of the individual names of Ed’s ‘transforming toys,’ including Ironhide, the one that had so rudely caused her foot grief earlier that morning.   
  
“There’ll be a quiz,” Roy joked as Maes pulled into the driveway.  
  
“I may have to cheat,” Trisha warned him.  
  
“Oh, it runs in the family then?”   
  
He jumped out of the way of her playful swat and took off towards the car.   
  
“Goodnight, Mrs. Elric!”  
  
“Goodnight, Roy!”  
  
Still humored by his narrow escape from the woman’s wrath, Roy hopped into Maes’ car and greeted him with a mile-wide smile.   
  
“What was that all about?” Maes asked, watching as Trisha stepped into the house.  
  
“Cheating and genetics,” Roy replied.   
  
“… Okay?” Maes was almost afraid to ask for details. But since Roy had made it through the night unscathed--as far as he could tell--he was content.   
  
Roy fastened his seatbelt. “What took you so long?”  
  
“I had to make a stop.”   
  
“For what?”  
  
“Stuff.”  
  
“What stuff?”  
  
“Just… stuff.”  
  
Roy was intrigued. “Well am I going to find out what this stuff is?”  
  
That knowing sparkle was back. _“Oh yeah.”_  
  
To Roy, it sounded like the promise of a perfect end to what was already a damn near perfect day.   
  
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s go home.”   
  
*****  
  
Ed had just barely made it up the stairs by the time his mother came back inside. Had he been caught eavesdropping, he would have simply told her that he was using the bathroom, although he hadn’t quite yet worked out his excuse for using the one downstairs when there was a perfectly functioning one right down the hall from his bedroom. Luckily, it no longer mattered.  
  
Al had indeed tattled, the little jerk, and Ed’s vengeance would be swift and harsh. At least until the kid started pouting, whereupon Ed would feel bad and make it all better as only big brothers could. But what interested him more than that--besides the skee ball story, which was prime torture fodder--was the realization that his mother was… cool. Like, really, _really_ cool. And not just cool in a mom way, which wasn’t all that cool in the grand scheme of coolness, but cool like an _actual person._ She smoked, she swore, and she was a smartass.   
  
He climbed into his bed and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Already, he was looking forward to tomorrow; he didn’t have to go to school, Russell was coming over again, and, of course, Roy. Ed was feeling so uncharacteristically optimistic that he vowed to himself that he would no longer cheat at Uno.  
  
A minute later, he changed his mind.  
  
Five minutes after that, he fell asleep, smiling into the darkness.


	24. Bonus - 31 Flavors

They settled on hamburgers since the other immediate fast food option--tacos--gave Maes what he so eloquently described as “the most horrendous shits.” And so after a quick run to the drive-through of McDonald’s, where Roy strongly suspected that the flirtatious young girl handing Maes their bag of food was half-tempted to serve herself as well, the boys kicked off their shoes and socks, plopped down on the couch with a mountain of deliciously greasy burgers and fries between them, and chowed down as they watched TV. 

“Want a beer?” Maes asked.

Roy shook his head as his mouth was presently crammed full of double cheeseburger.  While knocking back a few had become a near nightly ritual for the two of them, he still preferred the harder stuff.  But even though that was also more readily available than should have been for two teenagers, he felt the need to be completely sober tonight for some reason. 

No, not _some_ reason.  Roy knew damn well why he wanted to stay clean.  It was because of the promising gleam in his boyfriend’s eyes and the big brown bag sitting on the floor on his side of the couch, unopened and ominously nondescript. 

“So,” he started after swallowing his food.  “How’d it go with Gracia today?”

Maes cringed a bit at Roy’s question.  “About as well as those types of things can go,” he said.  “I told her that I liked her as a friend but that was all it would ever be.  She didn’t haul off and hit me or anything so that’s a good sign.  I hate when they hit me.”

Chuckling, Roy rooted around a carton of fries until he found the perfect one.  “Poor baby. Most of the guys in school would love to have that problem.”

“No they wouldn’t.  And shut up.  I know I’m an asshole.”  Maes snatched Roy’s fry and popped it into his mouth.  “But this is one time when I actually _didn’t_ bring this shit on myself.”

“I know,” Roy agreed.  “And you’re not an asshole.”

“Thank you.”

“A fucking slut, yeah.  But definitely not an asshole.”

“Asshole.”

“Thank you.”

Roy grinned and just barely managed to dodge the French fry that was launched at him. 

They continued eating and watching TV, pausing occasionally to break the silence by discussing such all important things like the mystifying appeal of Russell Brand and which Doctor was the best (Roy was a devoted Ten man while Maes really liked the new guy).  When they were finished, they crammed their trash into the bag from whence it came, spent the next few minutes digging random fries from between the cushions and under the sofa, and then curled up together sipping their now watered-down Cokes and watching a show featuring video game previews.  Somewhere along the way, Roy mustered up the courage to ask Maes something that had been lurking at the back of his mind since they got together:

“Do you think you’ll ever miss them?”

“Them who?”  Maes nodded at the television.  “Oh man, we are _so_ buying that game,” he muttered under his breath. 

“… Girls.”

Maes turned and blinked at Roy, who had taken a sudden interest in the cup in his lap.  Roy could feel him watching, questioning him with those intense green eyes, and he prayed that he was not as red-faced as he felt. 

“Are you asking because of Gracia?”

Roy shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “But since you brought her up, do you think that you would have eventually hooked up with her if we hadn’t?”

“Nope.”

“But how do you know that?” Roy asked, finally bringing himself to meet the young man’s gaze.  “You just admitted that you were a slut.”

“Um, no.  _You_ called me a slut.”

Roy paused.  Then he remembered.  Whoops.

“Oh yeah.”

Maes smiled and tightened his hold around him.  “Like I said before, she’s not my type.  She’s too… I don’t know… nice.  She’s all virginal and stuff.  That’s just asking for trouble.”

“I’m all virginal and stuff,” Roy pointed out.

“Yeah, but I love--”

The teen paused, his ever present expression of surety faltering.  Not because he didn’t mean what he was about to once again let slip so casually, Roy realized with dawning joy, but because it was the first time that he had ever felt that way about _anyone_.  For a guy like Maes Hughes, that was a big fucking deal.

Out of all the people he could have had, and _had_ had, Maes loved _him_. 

So yeah, it was okay that he didn’t finish the sentence.  Truthfully, Roy was glad that he didn’t.  He didn’t want his first time hearing those three words outright to be because of some not so random conversation about a girl with a crush. 

“Look, I’ll be honest.” Maes intertwined their fingers and sighed.  “Life was so much easier when all I wanted to do was fuck you.  I didn’t have to deal with all of this… feeling stuff,” he said, using his free hand to motion to his chest.  “But it happened and it is what it is and I don’t regret any of it.”

Unable to help himself, Roy closed his eyes and leaned into the fingers that trailed along his jaw and through his hair. 

“And no,” Maes continued.  “It’s not like ‘Oh no, I’m with Roy now and I’ll never get to fuck girls again.’ It’s more like ‘I’m with Roy now and… I’m happy.’”

Roy had no idea how to respond to that and it was just as well that he didn’t bother trying.  He was so overcome by such a simple yet monumental statement that he didn’t trust himself not to do or say anything embarrassingly sappy.  But then Maes was taking off his glasses and grabbing him about the back of his neck and kissing him into the couch and he tasted like burgers and fries and soda and nothing else mattered and life was perfect. 

_Perfect._

Sometime later they finally parted.  Maes offered him an adorably awkward and lopsided smile before sitting up. 

“So… are you ready to see what I bought?”

*****

After making sure all the lights were off and all the doors were locked, they retired to Roy’s bedroom.  They crawled onto the bed fully clothed, although an amusingly furtive exchange of glances confirmed that they would not remain clothed for long.

Maes placed the large mystery bag between them.  “Okay, so you know that store just outside of town?”

“The fireworks store?”

“No, the other one.”

“What other one?”

“The _other_ one.”

Roy frowned in confusion.  He knew the fireworks store very well because of the time that Maes had bribed the owner into selling him M-80s and came dangerously close to losing limbs.  Roy had tried to take all of the blame on that one, easy enough because most adults thought he was a mad raving pyromaniac anyway.   But Maes wouldn’t hear of it.  In the end, they were both grounded for a month, which was just as well as far as they were concerned since Roy was perfectly content never leaving the house and Maes was perfectly content to party there.  Win-win. 

So in his mind, he saw that particular store clearly.  But as for anything else out that way… well, there was an outlet mall, and even farther out, there was…

Roy’s eyes widened.

“The _sex_ store?”

Maes smiled proudly.  “Bingo.”

Roy was shocked… and still somehow not the least bit surprised. 

“Wait, don’t you have to be at least eighteen to go there?”

“Not if you accidentally drop a fifty on the counter,” Maes replied with a shrug.

Roy ran his hands over his face and laughed into them.   “Good Lord.  What am I going to do with you?” he asked through his fingers. 

Maes dumped the contents of the bag on top of the bedspread and tossed the bag on the floor.  “Maybe this will give you some ideas,” he said.

The sixteen-year-old peered downward, turned an alarming shade of red, and laughed. 

Using the tips of his fingers, Roy picked up a package.  “Stroker Beads?  How the hell do you…” He inspected it for a moment. “Ohhhhhhh.”

Maes smirked.  “Yeeeeeeeah.”

Roy gaped at the massive pile of accoutrement aimed at gay and/or insanely horny men.  From a dildo to a vibrator to cock rings to some sort of flashlight-looking device (“ _Flesh_ light,” Maes corrected) to anal beads to various colors of various types of condoms to bottles of every flavor of lubricant imaginable, as well as some that Roy never knew existed. 

“Holy shit, Maes!  What if you had seen someone who knows your parents?”

“They probably would have been way more embarrassed about being caught than I would.  You know I have no shame.” Maes grinned and selected the Fleshlight.  “I would love to see you use this,” he said, his voice low and wicked.  “Not tonight, but I’m just saying.  Something to keep in mind.”

While Roy wasn’t quite sure how he felt about sticking his dick into some sort of strange tube type thing, the idea of Maes watching him do _anything_ was very nice. 

Definitely something to keep in mind.

“W-We’ll see.”  Roy cleared his throat and damned if the room didn’t feel as if it just rose about twenty degrees in temperature. 

“But I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of pervert because of all of this,” Maes said.

Roy’s raised brow at the Cheeky Boy (“It’s Fun Between Your Cheeks!”) begged to differ. 

“Okay, I mean…”  Maes tapped absentmindedly at a box of glow-in-the-dark condoms.  “It’s just that… with girls, I’ve… you know… been around the block.”

“Around the city, around the state, around the country…”

“Fuck off.” Maes laughed and chucked a bottle of cherry lube at the teen.  “But seriously.  This is all still new to me and… well… I don’t want to suck at it.  So I figured I’d just make sure that you had… other options.”

Roy was absurdly touched.  “This is all new to me too, you know.  And you don’t suck,” he reassured him.  “Not in the bad way, at least,” he added cheekily.  He picked up the cherry lube that Maes beaned him with.  “I wonder how this stuff tastes.”

“Try it,” Maes suggested. 

Roy did.  It wasn’t half bad.

And that was how they ended up spending the next half hour sampling all of the different flavors of lube, from cherry to mint to strawberry to watermelon to blueberry to mango to vanilla to orange dreamsicle to chocolate to cinnamon to banana to bacon (yes, bacon) to peaches n’ cream to bubblegum to penis colada, which then naturally led to them sweeping everything onto the floor, stripping naked, and making a glorious mess of the sheets.

Later, after eventually mustering the energy to shower and change, they spooned on Roy’s freshly made bed, where they talked and kissed and laughed and kissed some more. Maes explained why he felt that the endings for Mass Effect 3 were bullshit and Roy outlined some modifications that he wanted to make to his glove. 

They remained at a stalemate over the better Doctor Who.

Roy clung to consciousness until he heard gentle snoring in his ear.  Then he fell asleep with a smile on his face as one of the best days of his life finally came to an end. 

They had less than a week to go before being found out.


	25. Chapter 25

Roy sat on the couch, pretending to watch television and biting at the corners of his mouth in an effort not to smile as a heated debate carried on around him:  
  
“Ichigo would win,” Ed insisted from Roy’s right, slamming a tiny automail hand against the arm of the couch for emphasis.  
  
“Nuh-uh,” Russell countered from Roy’s left.  “Goku.”  
  
“Ichigo.”  
  
“Goku.”  
  
 _“Ichigo!”_  
  
 _“Goku!”_  
  
And on and on.  They both argued their cases as eloquently as little boys could, although Roy almost lost it when Ed pointed out that Ichigo was a _Shinigami_ (deliberately enunciated to emphasize the awesomeness) whereas Goku was just a stupid monkey with stupid hair who was looking for his balls.  Dragonballs, as Roy soon found out, not that it prevented him from unintentionally snorting his amusement over his initial assumption.  
  
Neither side was willing to budge an inch on their respective stances.  When the children finally realized that they would not be able to make each other see the error of their ways, they turned to Roy to weigh in on the pressing matter, to give them a definitive answer and break the tie.  
  
“Uh… well…”  
  
Roy glanced nervously between Ed and Russell, realizing that the next thing that came out of his mouth could doom him for all eternity… or at least until Mrs. Elric arrived home.  He had absolutely no idea who Ichigo and Goku even were outside of the manga that the tiny blonds had shoved in his face earlier in an attempt to demonstrate the superiority of their chosen fictional character.  But he knew that he had to say something.  The very stubborn will of two very stubborn eight-year-olds would not allow him to escape without response.  
  
“Optimus Prime would beat both of them,” he finally concluded.  
  
Ed and Russell fell silent in the midst of this stunning revelation.  Roy could almost see their brains at work, trying to envision exactly how a battle between a robot alien, a Shinigami, and a stupid monkey with stupid hair would play out.  If nothing else, invoking the name of the epic Autobot leader was bound to score him some points…  
  
“Yeah, no shit,” Ed said.  
  
… or perhaps not.  
  
Since there was no foreseeable end to the stalemate, Roy thought it best to come up with a diversion lest _he_ somehow become the victim of their showdown.  
  
“Hey guys,” he said, trying to make himself heard between all the back and forth.  “How about we go outside for a little while?”  If he couldn’t bring an end to their bickering, he hoped like hell that they would play it out of their systems.  
  
“Okay,” they said in unison.  
  
Well then.  At least they could agree on that.  
  
*****  
  
While the boys entertained themselves in the backyard by striking weird poses and yelling about Kamehamehas and Getsuga Tenshos, whatever the hell those things even meant, Roy watched them from the sidelines, sitting on the ground and enjoying a burst of cool breeze that thankfully negated the heat of the sun.  After a while, Al poked his head around the corner of the house and shyly asked if he could join Roy.  
  
“Absolutely,” Roy replied, patting a spot on the ground beside him.  
  
Al gleefully jogged over to him and plopped down with a gusting oomph.  He stretched out his legs, one small sneakered foot digging into the grass beneath him.  
  
“Don’t you want to go out there and join them?” Roy asked, nodding towards Ed and Russell.  He couldn’t help but to notice that the child was always suspiciously absent when Russell came around, always finding an excuse to stay in his room and color or play with the Transformers he not-so-secretly snuck out of his brother’s bedroom.  
  
Al shook his head in emphatic refusal.  
  
“Why not?  I don’t think they’d mind.”  
  
“I get to play with Brother _all_ the time,” the boy explained as he tugged and pulled on a clump of grass. “Russell only gets to play with him for a little while.”  
  
Roy blinked at the seven-year-old, stunned.  While most other kids would have likely been jealous over having to share their brother with someone else, that Al was so willing to sit back and let Ed have his time with Russell displayed a selflessness that people many times his age did not possess.  
  
“You’re such a good kid, Al,” Roy said softly.  
  
Al looked up at Roy and smiled sweetly.  “You’re a good kid, too.”  He patted Roy on the knee.  “A good _big_ kid,” he clarified.  
  
Roy grinned and ruffled Al’s hair, absurdly touched by the sentiment.  “Thanks, Al.”  
  
“Welcome.”  
  
After that, they sat in silence, watching with matching expressions of amused confusion as Ed started going on about his Bankai and Russell proclaimed himself to be a Super Saiyan.  Roy still had no idea what the hell they were talking about, but as long as they were having fun--and not trying to kill him--it was all good.  
  
About ten minutes later, Al spoke up again.  
  
“Roy?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“Will you help me make a card for Brother’s birthday?”  
  
Brother’s… _Ed’s_ birthday?  
  
“When is it?” Roy asked.  
  
With a furrowed brow, Al started to count on his fingers, concentrating fiercely on the task.  It was cuter than words could express.  
  
“Not tomorrow Saturday, but the one after that,” he finally answered.  
  
Next Saturday.  Ed’s birthday was next Saturday.  
  
“Of course I’ll help you,” Roy said.  
  
“Yay!”  
  
Would that all of life’s dilemmas be solved so easily.  And adorably.  
  
Roy leaned back on his hands and contemplated this new information.  At first, he wondered why Ed hadn’t mentioned anything about it.  Most kids couldn’t wait for their birthdays and never hesitated to let everyone around them know about it.  Repeatedly.  But then again, Ed wasn’t most kids, was he?  Being that he didn’t have a lot of friends, large parties probably weren’t his thing.  Roy thought about asking Al how they celebrated his birthdays in the past but he also didn’t want to pry.  Maybe he would mention it in passing to Mrs. Elric and see what the woman had to say.  Surely she was planning something for her firstborn, no matter how small-scale it might be.  
  
Then there was the question of a gift.  Roy _had_ to get him a gift.  But what on earth did one buy for a boy like Ed?  Some manner of toy, most likely.  But what?  
  
Just as he was about to ask Al his opinion on the subject, Ed let out a delightfully shrill scream that miraculously managed not to break every window within a mile.  Roy looked out on the chaos, impressed that Russell had managed to pin the strong little boy to the ground, tickling him within an inch of sanity.  Ed bucked and kicked and laughingly proclaimed that _Saiyans did not tickle_ but Russell clearly did not get that memo.  The teen got up and brushed off his jeans, then walked over to the duo.  He didn’t want to be a downer, but he also didn’t want Russell to become the accidental victim of automail to the face.  As it turned out, his good intentions were his undoing, as the children turned on him and proceeded to attack him with imaginary moves that resulted in pain that was all too real.  
  
Well then.  At least they agreed on _that_ , too.  
  
*****  
  
Since it was Ed’s last day of suspension, Roy splurged and ordered the boys a pizza for dinner.  Staying true to form, Ed picked all the cheese off his slices and gave it to Al, who was more than willing to put it away.  The war between Shinigami and Saiyans was over for now, pushed to the side for the sake of stuffing faces.  Roy ate quietly while the children discussed things of life-altering importance, things like whether or not ThunderCats liked catnip and how Transformers went to the bathroom.  
  
He almost choked on his soda when Al innocently asked if SpongeBob had a woo-woo.  
  
After dinner and baths, they camped out in front of the television with cookies and chips and books and games.  Ed was the first to succumb to slumber, surprisingly early, sprawled out across the floor and using Roy’s foot as an unlikely pillow.  Russell was next, although he kept insisting that he wasn’t tired every time Roy jolted him awake with the sound of his voice.  Even Al was yawning regularly and rubbing at his face in an effort to wipe the sleep away.  
  
“Alright guys,” Roy said.  “Bedtime.”  
  
He eased Ed’s head off his foot and escorted Al and Russell upstairs to brush their teeth.  Afterwards, Russell collapsed onto his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sleeping bag and was snoring lightly by the time Roy left the room.  Roy led Al into his room and waited as the child dutifully crawled into bed and yawned one last time for good measure.  
  
“‘Night, Roy,” Al said sleepily.  
  
“Goodnight, Al.”  Roy pulled the blanket up to his chin.  
  
“Roy?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
The young boy looked at him through heavy lids, his lip curving slightly in a weary smile.  “I had a lot of fun today.”  
  
Roy pressed a hand to Al’s forehead, smoothing back brown locks.  “Me too, Al,” he replied.  
  
He turned to leave and had no sooner reached the door when Al called out to him again.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“I wish you could be our babysitter forever.”  
  
A wave of affection tore through Roy, catching him off guard in its unexpected depth.  He smiled at the blanketed lump across the room, feeling feelings he never intended to feel.  This was just supposed to be a job, but deep down he knew that it had stopped being that a long time ago.  
  
“… Me too, Al.”  
  
Roy left the room and headed down the stairs, not wanting to think of the decision he would have to make one day.  He looked at Ed and shook his head, trying to determine if it was worth possible bodily injury to wake him.  
  
Screw it.  His teeth would keep for one night.  
  
He knelt down and carefully picked him up.  Ed’s arms and legs dangled lifelessly as Roy held him and his head came to a thumping rest against the teen’s shoulder, his blond hair smelling of soap.  Roy grunted softly as he stood upright--Ed’s automail was hardly light--and made his way back up the stairs once more, gingerly traversing each step with his cargo.  He used his foot to nudge open the door to Ed’s room and carried him over to his bed, taking great caution not to step on Russell in the process.  
  
Roy placed Ed in his bed, cradling the back of his head until it was on the pillow.  He covered the boy with a blanket that he knew full well would be kicked off within the hour, if not sooner, and paused for a moment as he regarded Ed’s peaceful visage, a rarity well worth beholding.  
  
What _would_ he do when he finally made enough money to buy himself a car?  That was always the plan from the start, to do the babysitting thing just long enough to afford a vehicle.  Then he would be able to get a “real” job after that.  But now that he had become such an integral part of the brothers’ lives--and vice versa, _so much_ vice versa--could he really walk away from them once that day arrived?  
  
Did he really _want_ to?  
  
 The answer to the question was easy enough.  
  
The choice he would have to make, however, would prove to be most difficult.  
  
Roy reached out to Ed and tried to smooth down the cowlick that was just as stubborn as its owner.  Of course it did not comply.  With a wry smirk, he gave up and left it go.  
  
“Goodnight, Ed,” he whispered to the unconscious little boy.  
  
With that, Roy turned around and walked out of the bedroom.  
  
*****  
  
Ed waited until he heard the door close.  
  
“Goodnight, Roy.”  
  
He buried his face in his pillow, blushing furiously as he recalled every single step between the living room and his bedroom.  Ed supposed that he should have been ashamed of himself for allowing the teen to think he was asleep--though to be fair, he _had_ been--but when Roy’s arms wrapped around him and lifted him from the floor, there was no way in hell he was about to give himself away.  
  
And then when Roy tried to tame his untamable cowlick?  Well, that was just all sorts of icing on the cake.  
  
Ed sighed into the darkness, his little heart thundering with joy and spilling over with love.  
  
A boy could get used to that kind of happiness.  
  
*****  
  
They were outside again, studying the star-filled sky.  
  
“So a little Al told me that someone’s having a birthday next Saturday.”  
  
Trisha nodded mid-drag before replying.  “I meant to mention it to you earlier,” she said apologetically.  “But those two keep me so busy it’s a wonder that I can remember my own name half the time.”  
  
Roy chuckled.  He knew the feeling.  
  
“We’re going to keep it simple,” Trisha continued.  “Dinner, cake, that sort of thing.  Pinako and Winry will come.  And Russell.  And his little brother, Fletcher… And their father.”  
  
Roy favored Trisha with a raised brow and a knowing glance.  
  
“What?” she demanded, averting her gaze.  
  
“Oh, nothing,” Roy responded a little too innocently.  
  
“Am I that obvious?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Their shared laughter filled the air, and Roy found himself wondering what kind of place the world would be if all mothers were like Trisha Elric.  
  
“Anyway, of course you’re invited, too.  But since we’re doing this on a Saturday night, I understand if you have other plans.  I know you have a life outside of watching over my sons.” The woman took another drag and exhaled slowly.  “But if you _would_ like to come over, you’re more than welcome.  And… well, I’m sure you know that it would just make Ed’s entire year to have you there.”  
  
Roy did know that.  But it was still nice to hear.  
  
“Then I’ll be there,” he said.  
  
Trisha smiled in that way she had of doing that practically lit up the night.  Honestly, was there _any_ member of that family who wasn’t downright loveable?  
  
Well, Roy supposed there was one.  But he didn’t count.  The bastard.  
  
Maes arrived five minutes later.  Roy wished Trisha a good night and weekend and got into the car.  He informed Maes about Ed’s birthday and, when asked what he was getting for him, shrugged and stared out the passenger side window at all the nothing.  
  
“I don’t know,” he said.  “Something Transformery, maybe.”  
  
“Can’t go wrong with that.”  
  
“So what were you up to while I was gone?” Roy asked, intertwining his fingers with Maes’ and still loving the embarrassingly giddy way it made him feel.  
  
“I went to the mall.  I wanted to pick up a new shirt from American Eagle because, as you know, I make that shit look good.”  
  
Maes preened and paused for the proper response… although laughter probably wasn’t what he was aiming for.  
  
“Shut up.  I’m sexy and you know it.”  
  
Roy rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s hubris but did not deny the claim.  
  
“Oh yeah, I ran into Breda while I was there,” Maes added.  “He kept following me around, asking me what happened with Gracia, why I didn’t hook up with her.  Stuff like that.  It was kind of weird.”  The young man shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Maybe _he_ wants to hook up with her.”  
  
“Maybe,” Roy agreed.  “I would like to think that she has better taste than that, though.”  
  
“Well… _obviously_.”  
  
More preening.  Roy wasn’t sure if he would be able to fit in the car much longer on account of Maes' gigantic ego.  
  
When they arrived home, the three amigos were waiting for them in the driveway, crammed into Jean’s small car and ready to get shit-faced.  Roy decided against the booze that night, much to the astonishment of everyone.  Instead, he sipped on a soda as they all sat in the living room and shot the breeze, curled up on a chair with Maes sitting on the floor beside him, one hand cupping and stroking his calf in absentminded possessiveness.  
  
Later, after a movie and a game of spades and some Rock Band (Sheska’s drunken caterwauling would haunt them all to their graves), Maes and Roy grabbed pillows and blankets for the girls, who had passed out on the couch in an impossible contortion of arms and legs.  They then dragged Jean to Roy’s room and more or less dumped him onto the floor, not that he had any awareness of being mishandled in such a way.  
  
“Heavy motherfucker,” Maes grunted before climbing into Roy’s bed.  
  
Roy stared at his partner.  “Maes.  What are you doing?”  
  
“Come on,” the teen pleaded, staring up at him with those irresistible green eyes.  “Five minutes.”  
  
Roy knew all about Maes’ distorted concept of time.  But how on earth could he say no to that face?  
  
“Okay, seriously.  _Five minutes_.”  
  
He slid under the blanket, wisely choosing to ignore the young man’s smug look of victory.  Roy allowed himself to be pulled into a pair of strong arms and he planted his face in Maes’ neck, breathing in deeply.  
  
“Today was a good day,” he murmured, punctuating his observation with a kiss.  
  
“Yeah, it was.”  Maes pulled him even closer and rested his chin on Roy’s head.  
  
They remained that way for a few more minutes, until Maes reluctantly kept his word and sat up in the bed.  
  
“You know what I wish, though?” he said as he straightened his glasses.  “That we could just sleep in the same bed for one night.”  
  
“We did, remember?  And your dad almost caught us,” Roy reminded him.  “We get to _live together_ , Maes.  I’d say we’re pretty fucking lucky.”  
  
“Yeah, I know.  But still.”  
  
Maes bent down and kissed Roy on the lips.  For a very long time.  
  
“Alright, get out of here,” Roy demanded breathlessly, although his body begged him to reconsider.  
  
“Fine.”  Maes begrudgingly got out of the bed.  “Goodnight.”  
  
“Goodnight.”  
  
Maes held his ground as if he had something else to say.  Instead, he let his fingers trail down Roy’s cheek.  
  
A simple touch that spoke _volumes_.  
  
Roy waited until Maes left his room.  
  
Then he began to smile.  
  
… And _then_ he almost suffocated to death when Jean let rip the most noxious beer fart ever.  
  
*****  
  
It wasn’t often that Trisha allowed herself the luxury of sleeping in.  
  
 _“Ichigo!”_  
  
 _“Goku!”_  
  
 _“Ichigo!”_  
  
 _“Goku!”_  
  
And it looked like that morning would _not_ be an exception, either.  
  
She pried open her eyes as, down the hallway, two equally determined blond terrors were wide awake and going at it.  Trisha had no idea who Ichigo and Goku were, but at that moment, she could have gleefully strangled both of them for inspiring such a ruckus.  
  
It was going to be an interesting weekend.  
  



	26. Chapter 26

After a Saturday morning filled with TV shows featuring sponges that lived under the sea as well as screaming debates over fictional characters with spiked hair that defied the laws of gravity, Trisha made her way across the living room while carefully balancing three plates and three glasses of juice in her hands with a skill that only mothers possessed, nudging her way past action figures and crayons and coloring books, as well as a box of thumbtacks that had gone missing a couple of days ago.  She had no idea why it was there among the mess and made a quick mental note to remove it before someone got hurt, unaware that her not-so-innocent little boy had already conspired with his equally not-so-innocent little friend to turn Roy’s ass into a living pin cushion.  
  
She set the plates down on the coffee table and quickly stepped back before being attacked by tiny, grabby hands.  Tuna fish for Ed and Russell, and peanut butter, jelly, and bologna for Al, which was… extremely gross.  The woman had no clue how her youngest had even discovered such a creation but she also supposed that there was no reason to deny his request.  Aside from Ed’s seething hatred of milk, it could never be said that her children were overly picky eaters.  
  
But still.  Gross.  
  
“Thanks, Mom,” Ed and Al chimed through a mouthful of food, their sandwiches already half devoured.  
  
“Thank you, Mrs. Elric,” Russell piped in.  
  
“You’re welcome,” she replied, favoring them with a smile.  
  
Trisha grabbed the box of thumbtacks—and thought perhaps it was best not to wonder why doing so made Ed and Russell giggle like fiends—then disappeared into the kitchen just as a new discussion began over what that fellow Goku would or would not do while inhabiting some strange place called the Soul Society.  She settled down at the table with a book and a cup of coffee, leaving the children to enjoy their alone time while she enjoyed her own.  
  
About fifteen minutes later, Ed came in with empty plates and glasses stacked neatly in his hands. He placed the dishes in the sink and then, for no apparent reason, approached his mother and kissed her on the cheek.  
  
Trisha blinked at the boy in astonishment, Stephen King’s latest story momentarily forgotten.  “What was that for?” she asked, knowing full well how reluctant Ed was when it came to showing affection.  
  
Ed blushed and shrugged and said no more, but even that spoke volumes.  Trisha concluded that he was showing gratitude in his own unspoken way, not only for allowing Russell to stay over during his suspension but for her support in the matter altogether.  Not that he could ever bring himself to say such things out loud; she suspected that Ed would soon rather down a gallon of milk than speak of such sentimental things.  But even that, a quick, stolen kiss safe from the prying eyes of his brother and friend was enough to make the woman’s heart soar with love for her firstborn.  
  
She beamed at his downturned head and just barely resisted the urge to smother him with hugs and kisses.  That would have sent him running in feigned disgust for sure.  
  
“Guess what?” She reached out and tapped him on the head.  “And no, not chicken butt,” she quickly added, cutting off his usual response before he had a chance to say it.  
  
Ed lifted his head and grinned, amused that she had beaten him to the punch.  “What?”  
  
“It looks like we’re going to have an extra guest for your birthday next weekend.”  
  
Ed’s expression was one of contemplation… and then realization.  
  
Trisha nodded at him, confirming his suspicion.  
  
There were really no words to describe the dawning of unrestrained joy on a child’s face.  All Trisha could do was look at it, appreciate it, and commit it to memory forever.  It was far too rare an occurrence where Ed was concerned, although she never gave up hope that would change someday.  And in spite of the trouble at school, the way things seemed to be going lately, she wanted to believe it was a sight that would become more common as time passed.  
  
“Go on,” she said, motioning towards the living room.  “Before your brother has Russell singing the Spongebob theme.”  
  
Ed’s eyes widened in horror and he bolted out of the kitchen to spare his friend from such an unfortunate fate.  
  
Trisha smiled into her cup of coffee.  Oh, there was still the very real issue of what might happen when Ed went back to school on Monday, especially considering the boy’s adamant (and justified) refusal to apologize to the two girls who ruined the garden that he and Russell had worked so hard to create.  But she decided not to worry about that just yet.  So instead she sat back, relaxed, and listened to the joyous sound of laughter as it filtered in from the next room over.  Sometimes she thought that she was doing a halfway decent job at this motherhood business.  
  
And today, she felt like she was batting a thousand.  
  
*****  
  
While Roy was happy to have found something awesome for Ed’s birthday— and there was precious little in life more awesome than a Platinum Series Omega Supreme— he was more than ready to leave the mall, had _been_ more than ready the minute Maes parked the car an hour ago.  As a person who would never be mistaken for a social butterfly, he would never understand the need or desire some had to voluntarily submerge themselves in a crowd of people, just for the hell of it.  
  
Unlike his other half.  
  
The teen leaned against the passenger side of Maes’ car and waited while Maes bedazzled a group of girls who had cornered him as they were exiting the mall.  Roy recognized them from school but did not know them personally.  If he remembered correctly, they were seniors.  Because yes, his boyfriend’s sex appeal spanned all grade levels, apparently.  For fuck’s sake.  
  
Roy felt a stab of annoyance when one of them laughed obnoxiously and grabbed Maes by the arm.  He tried to be reasonable, reminding himself that this sort of thing was the unavoidable result of years of popularity and sleeping around.  Unfortunately, that did not make it any less annoying.  How many times had he restrained himself while they strolled about the toy stores looking for Ed’s present?  Not wanting to act out of possessiveness but because he had simply wanted to touch his boyfriend.  To hold his hand and do all the things that normal… no, _straight_ couples could do without fear of judgment.  It was bullshit.  
  
Eighteen could not come soon enough.  Then he would not have to worry about being disowned for dating a guy.  He would not have to give a damn what anyone thought about anything.  It would be such an awesome thing to hold Maes’ hand in public, assuming they were still together by then.  
  
Roy shook his head.  Of _course_ they would still be together.  What the hell was he thinking?  
  
Luckily, for Roy’s peace of mind _and_ Maes’ continued survival, Maes craftily extracted himself from the girl’s grip and bid the group farewell.  He approached Roy with an apologetic smile and Roy hated himself for once again forgiving him instantly.  
  
“Jerk,” he muttered.  
  
“Oh, come on.  Don’t be like that.”  
  
Maes’ smile grew even wider and he nudged Roy with his shoulder.  Roy held his ground as long as he could before the sickening charm won him over and he smiled in return.  Damn it all.  
  
“Yo, Hughes!”  
  
The couple turned and spotted Heymans Breda ambling towards them.  Although Maes had encountered him at the mall the night before, seeing him again was hardly surprising when there were so few other places to go for people barely old enough to drive.  
  
“Hey, Gayda,” Maes said, offering the large teen his standard greeting.  “Still trolling for junior high girls?”  
  
“Asshole.”  Breda turned to Roy.  “What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the bag in Roy’s hand.  
  
“Omega Supreme,” Roy replied, opening the bag to show him.  
  
“Sweet.  You’re not gonna open it, are you?”  
  
“If he was for me, then hell no.  But he’s a gift for the kid I babysit—”  
  
“Wait, the same kid that kicked you in the nards?” Breda asked, stupefied.  
  
“Um… yeah,” Roy responded while glaring at Maes, who had started laughing.  
  
“Huh.  Well, that’s pretty big of you, man.”  Breda stepped back and regarded the pair.  “Anyway, it’s kind of cool that I ran into both of you.  I’ve been wanting to ask you guys something for a while now.”  
  
“Oh yeah?”  Maes leaned against his car and waited.  
  
Roy assumed that Breda was going to inquire about Maes’ next house party.  It had been too long since his last one, by adolescent standards, at least.  And although Breda was actually an okay guy beneath all the stereotypical jock traits, he was not above scoring free booze wherever he could find it.  Or maybe that _was_ a stereotypical jock trait.  Roy was not certain.  
  
“How long have you been going out?”  
  
Even though they were standing in broad daylight, surrounded by the sound of people and cars, the only thing that Roy heard after that was his own thundering heartbeat.  He gawked at Breda, unable to form a thought, let alone words.  
  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Maes sounded surprisingly calm for someone whose sexual orientation was being called into question.  
  
“I’m talking about the two of you.  Together.  How long?”  
  
“What makes you think that we’re together?” Maes asked.  
  
“Besides the fact that Roy has the worst poker face I’ve ever seen?” Breda glanced at Roy.  “Seriously, dude.  You should probably work on that.”  
  
“Get in the car.”  Maes unlocked the doors and rounded the vehicle until he reached the driver’s side.  _“Both of you.”_  
  
*****  
  
Roy and Maes sat and listened as Breda told his tale from the back seat.  In a nutshell, jock notices that the local chick magnet stops banging everything in sight and even goes so far as to turn girls away.  This same jock, who jokingly questions the heterosexuality of all his friends on a regular basis, begins to wonder if the aforementioned chick magnet really _has_ switched teams.  The End.  It was hardly a complicated story, yet one that Roy still felt he should have seen unfolding long before this.  A guy like Maes could never change his habits without drawing attention.  Especially not in high school, where everyone’s business was everyone’s business.  
  
“So?”  Breda leaned back, his knees inadvertently pushing against the back of Roy’s seat.  “Anything to say?”  
  
Roy felt sick.  Utterly, hopelessly sick.  Not for himself, though.  He hardly gave two shits what Breda or most human beings thought of him.  People already believed that he was a pyromaniac; how much worse could it be if they knew he was gay on top of that?  
  
A flaming ‘mo, he thought, shaking his head.  Did the gods have a sense of humor or what?  
  
But Maes.  Maes had so much to lose.  Granted, they were ultimately meaningless things; Roy was well aware that potential homelessness was far graver than missing out on the chance to ever become Prom King.  But even so, he loved Maes enough to care about stupid things like that.  
  
“Breda,” he began, not even sure of what he was possibly about to say.  
  
Then Maes spoke up and threw everyone for a loop.  
  
“You’re right.  We’re together.”  Maes reached to his right and took Roy by the hand, ignoring the stunned gaze beside him to peer into the rearview and meet the stunned gaze behind him.  
  
“Maes!”  A horrified Roy tried to pull his hand away, as if doing so would somehow undo the fact that Maes had just outed them.  “What the hell are you doing?!”  
  
Roy stopped struggling when Maes turned to face him.  
  
“Fuck it,” the green-eyed teen said.  “I won’t lie. Not about this.” He looked over his shoulder at Breda.  “So?  Anything to say?” he asked, throwing his words right back at him.  
  
Roy felt like he was on display, the way that Breda’s eyes moved between him and Maes, assessing them both.  He tried to mentally prepare himself for the worst: laughter, ridicule, or whatever else might come.  While it would have been nice if every one of his coming out experiences resulted in gifts and a party, as it had with Jean and Riza and Sheska, Roy also knew that he needed to brace himself for the negative reactions as well.  And right now was looking to be as good a time as any to do so.  
  
“More pussy for me,” Breda finally replied.  
  
Now it was Maes’ turn to stare.  
  
“… That’s it?”  
  
Breda shrugged.  “I honestly couldn’t care less where either of you stick your dicks as long as you don’t try to stick them in me.”  
  
Roy was so relieved by Breda’s reaction that he did not even throw up in his mouth at the idea of fucking him.  
  
Maes chuckled, in both amusement and obvious relief.  “Yeah, that will never, ever, ever happen,” he reassured him.  “ _Ever_.”  
  
“But seriously though.”  Breda scooted forward and leaned between the driver and passenger seats.  “People are going to start wondering why you’re not whoring around anymore,” he said to Maes.  “The thing with Gracia, not so much because everyone knows she’s not your usual type.  But when you turn down the next girl, then the next girl, and so on… Know what I mean?”  
  
Maes nodded.  “Yeah.”  
  
Breda tapped on the back of Roy’s headrest, signaling to be let out of the car.  “But hey, being gay is kind of in now so you never know what’ll happen.”  
  
“I’m not gay,” Maes pointed out.  “But my boyfriend is.”  
  
“Yep, totally gay,” Roy added as he opened the car door.  And it felt damn good to say.  
  
“Wait, what?” Breda paused, confused as all hell.  
  
“I’ll explain it later,” Maes promised him.  “And hey… really, man… thank you for being cool about it.”  
  
Breda waved off the gratitude.  As well as the attempted handshake.  “You’re not gonna try to kiss my hand, are you?” he asked cheekily.  
  
“No, but you can kiss my ass whenever you want,” Maes informed him.  
  
They settled for a fist bump and Breda went on his merry way.  Roy and Maes watched him until he disappeared inside the mall and then looked at one another, processing everything that took place.  
  
“Holy shit,” Maes murmured as he took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes.  “That really just happened.”  
  
“It really did,” Roy agreed.  “… I’m sorry.”  
  
“Why are you apologizing?”  
  
“Because I…” Roy sighed deeply.  “I don’t want to cause trouble for you.  I mean, yeah, Breda doesn’t care but that doesn’t mean other people won’t if they find out.”  
  
Maes put his glasses back on and grabbed Roy’s hand again, twining their fingers.  “I told you before that I don’t care what people think about me.”  
  
“But this isn’t something as simple as some random guy calling you a douchebag for fucking his girlfriend.”  
  
“That wasn’t my fault,” Maes solemnly pointed out.  “She didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend.”  
  
Leave it to Maes to defend his former whorishness.  
  
“I’m being serious, you ass,” Roy said, giving his hand a squeeze.  
  
“Roy.  Listen to me.”  Maes stared thoughtfully at their intersecting digits.  “I hear what you’re saying.  I _do_.  And I’ll admit that there will probably be times in the future when I… creatively dodge certain questions about why I’m not trying to fuck half the school anymore.”  
  
He raised his head and met the young man’s worried gaze.  
  
“But I will never lie about this.  You.  _Us_.  If anyone ever asks point blank if you and I are together, I will always say yes.  Always.  I’m not ashamed of being with you and I won’t deny it.  Okay?  So let’s just—”  
  
“I love you, Maes.”  
  
Roy cringed and closed his eyes as his face heated in embarrassment, mortified that he was incapable of waiting for a far more opportune time to say what he just said.  He had so wanted his first time confession to be in a different setting, something a little more romantic than sitting in a parked car in the middle of a mall parking lot with Omega Supreme lodged between his legs.  But there it was, regardless.  
  
“Shit.  I… I didn’t mean to just throw that out there like that,” he tried to explain.  
  
“Why not?” Maes asked softly.  “You meant it, right?”  
  
Roy slowly opened his eyes.  “Yeah.”  
  
Maes smiled warmly.  “Then it was perfect… and I love you, too.”  
  
He leaned towards Roy—  
  
“Whoa, Maes.  What are you doing?”  
  
Maes showed him by way of a brief and gentle peck on the lips.  In a parked car in the middle of the mall parking lot with Omega Supreme lodged between Roy’s legs.  
  
“Just this once,” Maes said, letting go of his hand and starting the car, his face plastered with a huge and goofy smile.  “You just told me you loved me, so when you think about it, it’s really all your fault that I did that.”  
  
“Clearly,” Roy pretended to agree, rolling his eyes and happier than ever.  
  
“Even though I said it first,” Maes added under his breath.  
  
“No, you _implied_ ,” Roy corrected.  
  
“Close enough.”  
  
“Really?”  Roy smirked victoriously.  “Then by your logic, I still have you beat.”  
  
Maes carefully maneuvered the car out of its parking slot.  “How the hell do you figure?” he demanded to know.  
  
“That first night after we got together, after Ed found out about us and I was all bummed out about it,” Roy said.  “Remember?  We were drinking beer by the fire before… other things.”  
  
“Oh yeah.  But I was _thinking_ it first.”  
  
“Bullshit.”  
  
“I swear to God.  Before I brought the beer out, I was watching you sit by the fire and…  thinking… things… and feeling... feelings… and stuff.”  
  
Roy noted the slight blush that crept into Maes’ face and suspected that he was actually telling the truth.  
  
“Fine,” he said quietly.  “You win.”  
  
“Ha!  Damn right.”  
  
Roy grinned and turned to watch the passing traffic.  They had dodged a bullet just now with Breda, a huge one.  And there would be more obstacles to come.  But Roy decided that he did not want to worry about that just yet.  Right now, he just wanted to enjoy the ride home, with the man he loved sitting right beside him.  
  
And with Omega Supreme _still_ lodged between his legs.  
  
*****  
  
Ed could not fall asleep.  
  
Not because Al was sprawled out beside him and snoring softly, but because of Roy.  
  
Roy was going to come to his birthday party.  
  
Although he had pretended to be perturbed when he found out that Al had spilled the beans, Ed could have secretly kissed the boy for having such a big mouth and mentioning it in the first place.  He would have never done it himself; not because he did not want Roy to come but because he was afraid that the teen might have rejected the offer in favor of doing… whatever teenagers usually did on Saturday nights.  
  
Ed had to make sure that his mother was not planning anything too babyish.  He was going to be nine, after all, his last single digit year.  That was a pretty big deal.  He frowned in the darkness as he considered all the ways he could showcase his impending maturity to Roy.  
  
Was a Transformers cake really all that mature?  
  
Well, tough shit if not, because he was not _about_ to give that up.  
  
Ed winced as Al’s hand caught him off guard and smacked him in the nose.  He lowered the child’s arm down to his side and then carefully cocooned him in a blanket to prevent assault from other flailing limbs.  Then, because no one else was looking, Ed gave his little brother a quick kiss on top of the head and flopped over onto his side, blanket over his face, prepared to deny the impromptu show of affection until the day he died if Al had happened to catch it.  But Al just kept right on snoring and Ed was eventually able to relax knowing that his secret was safe.  
  
He smiled and fidgeted and thought about Roy and tried to think of all the ways he could use his birthday wish.  Ed was so excited that it seemed almost a shame to go to sleep.  He would have much rather stayed awake and wallowed in all the happiness.  
  
Today… it was a good day.  
  
Next Saturday was going to be _even better._  
  
Now if only he could say the same thing about Monday…


	27. Chapter 27

While Monday mornings were horrible, awful things in general, Ed dreaded today, _this_ Monday, especially. Because after a three day suspension that was more like the best vacation ever, it was time to go back to the reality of lessons that he already knew, teachers who probably despised him, and classmates who very likely hated him. Plus there was the issue of an apology that he had absolutely no intention of giving.  
  
Although his mother did not have much to say about the subject as she drove him and Al to school--a rarity due to the circumstances--Ed was convinced that he would be expected to face those jerkass twins who destroyed his and Russell’s garden and express a remorse that he did not feel. And when she disappeared into the principal’s office and left him in the waiting area under the worried and mistrustful eyes of the office secretary, he just knew that he was going to be faced with the difficult task of showing his displeasure by way of an earth-shattering tantrum the likes of which no human being had ever seen.  
  
And honestly? Ed had no real desire to behave in such a way because tantrums were for babies and he was soon to be all of nine years old. But if that was what it took for him to make his point, then so be it. And if his refusal resulted in another suspension/vacation? Sweet!  
  
For that reason, he was completely surprised when Trisha exited the office some twenty minutes later, smiled sweetly at him, and told him to run along to class.  
  
“... Huh?” He gaped at his mother, stunned and confused and cautiously hopeful.  
  
“Go on,” she said reassuringly. “I’ll see you when you get home.”  
  
Ed had been so prepared to rain down his fury that he had no idea what to make of this development. He slowly took his leave and walked out of the office, his brow creased in a contemplating frown as he tried to sort out what magic his mother used to absolve him.  
  
*****  
  
Trisha watched him leave, thoroughly amused by his confusion. She was willing to bet any money that he had his heart set on having a rip-roaring tantrum, knowing that boy of hers.  
  
It was actually easier than she thought it would be, especially without Hohenheim’s interference. After all, she was just a dutiful mother, doing the best she could to raise her two sons all by herself, one of whom had a rather unique physical disability that left him subject to ridicule and discrimination, by students _and_ quite possibly staff as well. It was the D-word that did the trick, dropped with just the right amount of parental concern and a peculiar gleam of the eyes that sent the principal into a long and stuttering speech about how such a thing would never be allowed to befall any one student. After giving her all sorts of reassurances that Ed had always been and would always be treated just as fairly as the others, it was determined that his suspension was punishment enough, and that an apology was not necessary. Just like she thought.  
  
It was all bullshit, of course. Trisha knew damn well that there were some teachers who did not care to deal with her child, and it hurt to think about the ways that Ed might have been negatively singled out while he was in school, ways that he would never tell her about (although God help them all if he did). She also knew that she would not be able to fight his battles forever. But she had fought this one. And she won. And once again, she felt like she was kicking ass at the mom game.  
  
With that out of the way, Trisha slung her purse over her shoulder. After sparing a parting glance for the secretary, one that dared the woman to even _think_ about giving Ed a disparaging look ever again, she left the office and headed for her car. She could not afford to waste any more time. There were things to do.  
  
And birthday parties to plan.  
  
*****  
  
The day had gone surprisingly well for Ed. He was able to get caught up with the rest of the class in all subjects with frightening ease. He also discovered that his urge to lash out at Rose and Noa for what they did was diminished greatly by scratching his nose in their general direction. With a strategically placed middle finger. All day long. Their twin expressions of shock and horror were extremely satisfying.  
  
Ed was in such a good mood by the end of the day that he did not even give Roy a hard time that evening. Well, not _much_ of a hard time. Although he had not quite yet worked up the nerve to ask Roy what he wanted to ask him, he ate his dinner without incident and took his calcium supplements without complaint. And he even managed to keep himself occupied while Roy and Al worked on a “top secret project” that he assumed had something to do with his birthday. Afterwards, he bathed and brushed his teeth like a good little boy and went to bed at his scheduled bedtime without putting up a fight.  
  
“Who are you and what have you done with Ed?” Roy asked as he tucked the child’s blanket around him.  
  
“What do you mean?” Ed asked with terribly feigned innocence. “I can’t be nice?”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
Roy playfully pinched Ed’s cheek, earning him a chuckle and a scowl and an attempted bite. Ed smiled as the teen shut off the bedside lamp and turned to leave, feeling all kinds of warm and fuzzy and loving things… and then giggling when he spotted the sign that was still taped to Roy’s back, a prank that was an oldie but goodie. This time, Roy did not eat his own boogers (as far as Ed knew). Instead…  
  
*****  
  
“I pick my butt.”  
  
Roy stared dumbly at the sign that had been taped to his back for the better part of who knew how long while Trisha sat beside him on the porch, grinning madly.  
  
“Well, your secret is safe with me,” the older woman said between chuckles.  
  
Shaking his head, Roy shoved the paper into his pocket, where it would soon join a fast growing collection of Ed’s “special” gifts. From the Gen 1 Optimus and the salvaged tulip to the booger-eating sign and a thumb tack from Ed and Russell’s onslaught that had somehow managed to remain lodged in his pants, all of those things, whether accumulated out of an act of rare kindness or Ed’s special brand of evil, were a reminder of the frustratingly endearing child whom he had come to care deeply about.  
  
“Thanks,” Roy muttered with a reluctant smile of his own.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Trisha said, although her laughter hardly demonstrated her sincerity.  
  
Roy sneaked a peek at her, noting the way she tucked a lock of brown hair behind her ear with one hand as she flicked ash over the edge of the porch with the other. And for about the hundredth time since he met her, he found himself wishing that more adults were like her. He could not think of many other grown-ups who would be so accepting and understanding, with a sense of humor to top it off. And she had opened her home and entrusted the care of her sons to him, a weirdo who liked guys and fire, without giving it a second thought. Ed and Al were very lucky to have her.  
  
“Oh, before I forget…” Trisha crushed the cigarette under her foot and pocketed the butt to discard properly when she went back inside the house. “I think that Edward plans on asking you to be there when he gets his automail replaced next week. Of course, if I had known he was going to be suspended, we would have done it then because he needs a couple of days to recover, but his new arm and leg weren’t ready yet.”  
  
Roy was intrigued, although the part about needing days to recover did not sound promising. “Automail… replaced?”  
  
“He gets new automail once a year,” she explained. “More often if he happens to outgrow it before the year is over. Which is almost never the case. Yet Al seems to be growing an inch a day, go figure.” Trisha shrugged before continuing. “Anyway, I’m not going to tell you that you can’t do it. But… you should know… it’s not an easy thing to watch. Not at all.”  
  
Trisha’s ominous words confirmed what Roy had long suspected, that Ed’s automail attachment was not a pleasant experience for the boy.  
  
“He toughs it out, though,” Trisha continued. “Pinako says he handles it better than anyone else she’s ever seen. Better than grown men and women, even.”  
  
Roy nodded while she spoke, recalling the time that the old woman had said the very same thing to him.  
  
“But still…” Trisha sighed harshly. “There are times when it hurts him so much that I want to punch her right in the goddamn face.”  
  
Roy snorted laughter at the unexpected statement. Trisha Elric was a total mama bear, and he absolutely loved it.  
  
“Sorry, that wasn’t nice,” she said.  
  
Roy thought back to one of the days when he considered laying waste to an entire elementary school because of the way that some of the children were treating Ed.  
  
“I get it.”  
  
Trisha smiled warmly at him before turning her attention to the night sky. “If he _does_ ask--and judging by some of the hints he dropped last night, I have no reason to believe he won’t--I just wanted you to know what to expect. And that it’s okay to say no.”  
  
“Except you already know that I won’t,” Roy pointed out.  
  
“Yeah, I know.”  
  
They fell silent, united in their devotion to a precocious youth with metal limbs. For Roy’s part, sure, he was curious about Ed’s automail and wanted to learn more about how it did what it did. But more than that, _far_ more, he felt touched and honored that Ed would want him there while he was stripped of his appendages. For someone who went so far to show no weaknesses, that he would willingly allow Roy to see him in such a state… well, the significance was overwhelming.  
  
“Here comes your fella.”  
  
Trisha’s words (fella, how utterly cute) snapped Roy out of his rumination just as Maes pulled into the driveway. Roy wished her a goodnight and jogged over to the car.  
  
“Why are you so happy?” Maes asked, noticing the teen’s expression as he got in. “Did you get some hot cougar action?”  
  
“Maes!”  
  
“My bad. That’s Jean’s wet dream, not yours.”  
  
“Ew.” Friend or not, Roy had zero desire to contemplate what Jean was wet dreaming about, or that he was doing it at all.  
  
Maes backed out of the driveway and headed for home, regaling Roy with stories of the small impromptu gathering that had apparently started without him, one during which Jean could not score to save his life and Breda attempted to hook up with a very drunk and braless Sheska, only to end up with a lapful of chunky yark for his trouble.  
  
And Riza apparently won twenty bucks for predicting it.  
  
In other words, another typical party at the Hughes’ house.  
  
*****  
  
The following evening, after helping Al put the finishing touches on Ed’s birthday card--and repeatedly chasing Ed out of his bedroom for prying--Roy started dinner for the boys. Chicken, potatoes, and something green--easy enough. And then apple pie for dessert--even better.  
  
He had just set the timer on the oven and sat down at the kitchen table for a breather when Ed came wandering in, his golden eyes darting curiously around the room. Roy had no doubt that he was looking for possible hiding places for his birthday card, which was actually somewhere the nosy child would have never thought to look, only because it was a place that he would have never been able to reach: on top of the refrigerator.  
  
“What are you doing?” the eight-year-old inquired, taking a seat at the table and not-so-discreetly feeling beneath it. Clever.  
  
“Well, I’m not picking my butt,” Roy replied, narrowing his gaze at the boy.  
  
Ed cackled wickedly at the reference. “Butt picker.”  
  
“You know, that’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who bought you the most awesome birthday gift ever,” Roy reminded him.  
  
All laughter came to an immediate halt. Roy bit his bottom lip to keep from openly smiling at Ed’s sudden angelic transformation.  
  
“So do you think that you can ease up on the torture for three more days?” he asked.  
  
“That’s a long time,” Ed said regretfully.  
  
This time, Roy did smile. Three days of good behavior was probably a lifetime for a kid like Ed.  
  
“You’ll live,” he promised him, standing up from the table. He grabbed a couple of glasses from the cupboard and a bottle of apple juice from the fridge. “What’s Al doing?” he asked as he poured them both a serving.  
  
“Watching TV.” Ed took a large gulp of the juice and let out a mighty belch. Being the teenager that he was, Roy was actually rather amazed that such an impressive sound came out of such a little body. But he supposed that was not the kind of thing that should be openly complimented, at least not on Trisha’s dime.  
  
“Ed...”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, ‘scuse me.”  
  
“Thank you,” Roy muttered into his glass, taking a sip of the sweet liquid to mask his amusement.  
  
And so they sat and talked for a bit, just a couple of guys, hanging out and drinking some juice and listening to the sound of Al’s muffled laughter as SpongeBob Squarepants did… whatever the hell it was he did that the child found so damn funny. After a while, Roy got up and checked the oven, and thanks to his conversation with Trisha the night before, what Ed said next came as no surprise.  
  
“I’m getting new automail next week.”  
  
Although Roy was done poking and prodding the chicken, he held his ground. He knew Ed well enough to suspect that the only reason he was bringing it up now was because he did not have to look Roy in the eye to say what he wanted to say.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Uh-huh. Next Friday.”  
  
“Is that so?”  
  
“Mm-hm.”  
  
The heat was getting to Roy’s face, so he closed the oven and busied himself at the stovetop, keeping his back turned so that Ed would feel comfortable going on. “That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun,” he said.  
  
“Used to it.”  
  
That did not sit right with Roy. He hated the idea of Ed having to be “used to” any amount of pain.  
  
“Roy?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“... If… my mom says it’s okay… and… if it’s okay with you… will you… will… you...”  
  
Upon hearing Ed’s small, exasperated sigh, Roy finally turned around. What he saw was like a punch in the gut… which was almost fitting, considering the source. Ed was blushing, right to the tips of his ears. He looked everywhere except directly at Roy, and his tiny fingers clutched the now empty glass so hard that Roy thought it might shatter in his grip.  
  
“Would you like me to go with you, Ed?” he asked quietly.  
  
Ed nodded emphatically, his eyes wide and thankful.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Ed flashed him another one of those rare smiles full of gratitude and adoration, and that was more or less the exact moment when Roy accepted what he already knew to be true, that watching over Ed and Al _was_ his “real job,” and that he was not about to stop doing it anytime soon.  
  
“Why don’t you go keep Al company?” he suggested, trying to sound casual. “I’ll call you guys when dinner’s ready.”  
  
Ed hopped up from his seat and walked towards the kitchen door. As soon as he reached it, he stopped and turned around.  
  
“You’re still a butt picker,” he concluded before sticking out his tongue and strolling out of the kitchen.  
  
Roy could only laugh and shake his head.  
  
So much for a tender moment.  
  
*****  
  
“How does it work?” Maes asked as he checked the marshmallow that he was presently attempting to roast over a fire. “With Ed’s arm and leg, I mean.”  
  
Roy pulled his own burnt marshmallow from the flames. “Mrs. Elric says that they’re attached to every single nerve and muscle, which I guess sounds about right since he can move his fingers and toes.”  
  
“But he’s going to be asleep when the new ones are attached, right?”  
  
“Nope. He has to be wide awake.”  
  
 _“Why?”_  
  
“I have no idea.”  
  
Maes stared at Roy, horrified. “Jesus. Poor fucking kid.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Roy pulled the charred lump from the end of his stick and tossed it into the fire before grabbing a fresh marshmallow from the bag between him and Maes and trying again.  
  
“Are you sure that you’re going to be okay with watching him go through that?” Maes asked.  
  
Actually, Roy strongly suspected that witnessing Ed’s ordeal was going to break his heart into a thousand pieces. But he also knew that telling the young man such a thing would only prompt him to try and talk Roy out of it.  
  
“I guess I’ll find out,” he replied.  
  
The couple roasted away, until they had enough marshmallows to make a heaping pile of s’mores. Maes justified their terrible choice of nutriment by claiming that the treats contained _some_ representation of the major food groups.  
  
“Like the chocolate food group?” Roy challenged him.  
  
“Hey, there’s milk in there somewhere,” Maes insisted as he crammed a whole s’more into his mouth.  
  
“Right.” Roy grinned and helped himself to a bite, chasing it with a sip of soda since there was very little alcohol left in the house after last night’s debacle.  
  
And speaking of last night’s debacle...  
  
“What’s the word on Breda and Sheska?” Roy wanted to know.  
  
“There is no word,” Maes responded. “I suppose that throwing up all over someone is kind of a deal breaker.”  
  
“You think?” Roy smiled as he recalled Maes’ tales. “I wish I could have seen that. Well… I mean… no, I don’t because gross… but I bet it was hilarious.”  
  
“It really was.” Maes reached for another s’more. “Oh, yeah. Dad called while you were gone. He said they’ll be home tomorrow afternoon.”  
  
“For how long?” Roy asked.  
  
Maes shrugged. “So I was thinking--”  
  
“Did it hurt?”  
  
A middle finger was presented for Roy’s approval.  
  
“ _As I was saying._ I was thinking that we could sleep together tonight.”  
  
Roy raised a brow at his boyfriend.  
  
“I mean in the same bed, you pervert,” Maes clarified.  
  
“I don’t know, Maes…”  
  
“We can lock the bedroom door in case they come back early,” Maes offered. “I doubt they will, but just in case.”  
  
Roy gnawed on a s’more as he considered the suggestion. He thought that it really _would_ be nice to wake up beside Maes for once, and not just to kick him out of the bed after having fun with flavored lube.  
  
“Just for tonight,” he eventually agreed.  
  
Maes leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, a little thing that made Roy incredibly happy.  
  
They spent the next hour stuffing their faces and talking about movies and video games and all other things pertinent to sixteen-year-old boys. When the fire finally died down, they returned to the house and went straight to bed.  
  
Two hours after _that_ , they finally fell asleep.  
  
Together.


	28. Chapter 28

After three of the longest days in the history of all that ever was or would be, days that were filled with the pure agony of being on his best behavior, Edward Elric woke up on a bright Saturday morning with a huge smile on his tiny face, and feeling like an entirely brand new person.  
  
A _nine-year-old_ brand new person, to be exact.  
  
That’s right. Today was his birthday. The one day out of the entire year when he could do no wrong. (Well, okay, he could still do plenty wrong, but he figured that he wouldn’t get in too much trouble for it today of all days.) And if all went according to plan, this birthday promised to be better than all of his previous birthdays combined.  
  
He hadn’t wanted to fall asleep the night before. Instead, he had every intention of staying awake until midnight to greet his birthday right and proper. But he _did_ end up falling asleep as children always did when they swore they wouldn’t, and he dreamt of parties and presents and all sorts of wonder and merriment.  
  
And Roy. He dreamt about Roy. Hence the smile.  
  
 _“But Mooooooooom! I wanna wake ‘im uuuuuuuuup!”_  
  
Ed grinned at the sound of his brother’s voice just outside of his door, followed by a harsh _shhh!_ from his mother. He knew that Al was just as excited for his birthday as he was, although he suspected that it had to do with residual perks like playing with any new toys Ed happened to acquire more than anything else. And maybe, just maybe, Ed would be nice enough to let Al play with his birthday swag.  
  
… Okay, maybe not.  
  
He yawned and stretched and kicked off his blanket. Although he was half-tempted to stay in bed just a little while longer to drive Al crazy, he decided that he had already slept far too long for his liking. He only had twenty-four hours to work with and eight or nine of them were already gone.  
  
Ed rolled out of bed and stretched some more, then wiggled his legs, shaking down the frog-patterned pajamas that had bunched up around his knees. He trudged over to the door while wiping the sleep out of his eyes and barely had time to grab the doorknob before Al came bursting in and almost knocked him over.  
  
“Happy birthday, Brother!”  
  
Al swept Ed into a crushing hug that made Ed happier than he would ever acknowledge, and proceeded to grab him by the arm and drag him out of the room and into the hallway.  
  
“Al, wait!”  
  
“Mom made pancakes!” the brown-haired boy gleefully announced as he pulled Ed towards the stairs. “With chocolate chips in ‘em!”  
  
Ah. So _that_ was the real reason that he was so anxious for Ed to wake up.  
  
“That’s great, Al,” Ed said. And it really was because his mom’s pancakes were the best thing in life. “But can I at least pee first?”  
  
As they reached the top of the stairs, Al finally stopped. “Okay, I _guess_ ,” he relented with a sigh, as if the burden of dealing with siblings and their full bladders was a cross that no one should have to bear.  
  
Ed tried not to laugh at Al’s dilemma. Poor kid, having to wait all of an extra few minutes to eat.  
  
“I’ll meet you downstairs, okay?”  
  
“‘Kay!”  
  
Ed waited until he saw that Al had made it safely down the stairs--at the speed the kid was moving, it didn’t hurt to be sure--and then he disappeared into the bathroom to do what came naturally. He had barely finished washing his hands before Al’s voice floated up the stairs and through the door, impatient and eager and utterly precious. Even so, the brat in Ed decided to make him wait a little bit longer by counting to fifty before leaving the bathroom.  
  
What kind of big brother would he be if he didn’t?  
  
*****  
  
Ed was conflicted. But in a good way. Because on one hand, he wanted his birthday to last forever. But on the other hand, he was entirely too excited to get to all the partying, which was taking _forever._  
  
After eating way too many pancakes--an honor he almost lost to Al and his voracious appetite--Ed was shooed out of the kitchen by his mother, who then set about making the Transformers cake that he was not allowed to see until later that day. He got dressed and brushed his teeth and hair, and then joined Al in the living room to watch cartoons. After a rather insightful discussion about why that damn coyote could never catch that stupid roadrunner--because seriously, what the hell?--the boys occupied their time with coloring books and board games and manga. Ed felt a massive swell of pride when Al agreed that, yes, Ichigo was far better than Goku and his (dragon) balls, thus proving that silly Russell wrong.  
  
Around noon, Nash Tringham and his crew came over to pick up the boys and take them out for lunch while Trisha planned on staying behind and getting things ready to go. Ed overheard his mother calling the man “brave” for doing such a thing, whatever that was supposed to mean. And after lunch, they went to the park where Ed, Al, Russell, and Fletcher exhausted themselves with horseplay and good times. Although Ed was usually aware of some of the looks he got because of his automail, today he couldn’t have cared less.  
  
Afterwards, he got home to find the living and dining room decorated with all things Transformers, which was awesome. But then his mother made him take another bath because he was downright filthy, which was not so awesome.  
  
Later that afternoon, and not a moment too soon, the time had _finally_ come. Pinako and Winry were the first ones to arrive, bearing an armful of gifts and a covered dish that smelled positively divine. (No one could match Trisha in the cooking department as far as Ed was concerned, but Pinako was no slouch, either.) Al was suspiciously more well-behaved than usual in Winry’s presence, and Ed didn’t let him hear the end of it.  
  
The Tringhams returned shortly after that. Russell and Fletcher brought even more presents while Mr. Tringham was carrying a nondescript bag that contained what he referred to as “Kool Aid for grown-ups.” He was grinning when he said it, as were Trisha and Pinako, but Ed had no idea why it was so funny.  
  
While the adults went into the kitchen to prepare food--and presumably to drink some of that Kool Aid they were so giddy about--Ed and his guests sat down in the living room and entertained themselves with TV and books and toys and general chatter. Pinako came out with two trays of appetizers and then distributed all types of party goodies and noisemakers, the latter of which would prove to be a mistake that Trisha would never make again. Originally, Ed had every intention of foregoing the birthday adornments; he was nine now, for goodness sake, and needed to express some manner of maturity. But the lure of being decked out in brightly colored crap proved too tempting to resist.  
  
They played a few rounds of Uno, and Ed quickly discovered that the old lady was a formidable opponent. Just as he was trying to come up with a way to cheat without getting caught, there was a knock at the door, and the entire world came to a halt. For Ed, at any rate.  
  
Because Roy was there.  
  
And that alone was the best gift ever.  
  
*****  
  
Ed looked ridiculously adorable all bedazzled in his brightly colored crap. Roy looked down at him over the now concealed Omega Supreme in his arms (and hadn’t that just been a bitch to wrap?) and smiled.  
  
“Happy birthday, Ed.”  
  
Ed beamed at him and that alone was worth the price of admission.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
He stepped aside and Roy entered the house, whereupon he was bombarded by little ones, all of whom were entirely too happy to see him, including Winry and Fletcher, who hardly knew him at all. Roy placed the gift on the pile and waved hello to Pinako, who was still rocking the phallic hair bun underneath her party hat.  
  
“Staying out of trouble, young man?” she asked.  
  
“I’m trying to,” Roy replied.  
  
“Psh. What the hell’s the fun in that?”  
  
It was official. Pinako was the coolest old person that Roy had ever met.  
  
After a quick birthday makeover--Roy somehow ended up with _two_ hats on his head, courtesy of Ed and Russell--Trisha came out and greeted him, as did Russell’s dad, who was still pretty nice as far as male adults went. And now that the guests were all accounted for, the party could really start.  
  
They played a series of games that Roy had never even heard of, from Penguin Shuffle to Newspaper Sumo to Tacos and Bridges. There was also a balloon popping contest (another thing that Trisha would omit in the future for the sake of her hearing and sanity) where it was determined that anyone over the age of nine was a cheater by default because of their naturally larger hands. After that came Hide and Seek, which Roy graciously declined in favor of blowing up more balloons.  
  
When Ed noticed that the teen wasn’t taking part in all the hiding, he decided to quit and join him on the couch.  
  
“Why aren’t you playing?” Roy asked him.  
  
“I’d rather help you,” Ed said, fiddling with the package of balloons between them. “Is that okay?”  
  
“Absolutely.” Roy tied off the end of the balloon he was working on and let it fall to the floor. By that point in the festivities, it was hardly the worst thing down there. He selected a red balloon from the package and handed it to Ed. “Knock yourself out.”  
  
They spent the next twenty minutes filling balloons in comfortable silence while children and adults alike occasionally ran by, either chasing or being chased. After one of Ed’s nearly full balloons slipped through his fingers and fluttered about through the air, a new game was born.  
  
After all of that madness came the birthday dinner itself, which was uneventful. And delicious. Although Trisha invited Roy to dine with the adults, Ed stubbornly insisted that he was staying put right beside him at the dining room table. Who was Roy to refuse?  
  
And after dinner, came gifts. Ed got more books and toys than he knew what to do with, plus a Goku figure that prompted him to flip off an evilly grinning Russell.  
  
“Edward!”  
  
Roy thought that Trisha really should have counted her blessings if shooting the bird was the _worst_ thing that Ed had done so far.  
  
“What? My nose was itching,” Ed insisted innocently.  
  
Ed saved Roy’s gift for last. Incidentally, it was also the only time he did not rip the wrapping paper to shreds.  
  
“Omega Supreme!” Ed screamed, obliterating any pretenses of his supposed maturity. He looked at Roy with unwavering affection, even as he smacked Al’s hand away for attempting to touch it. “Thank you, Roy.”  
  
Roy felt his heart lurch just a bit and he struggled to keep a straight face under the weight of his adoration. “You’re welcome, Ed,” he managed, hoping that he didn’t sound nearly as sappy as he felt.  
  
“Okay, guys. Cake and ice cream in twenty,” Trisha announced.  
  
Ed cringed and stuck out his tongue.  
  
“Or cake and _more_ cake for some of you,” she amended.  
  
And with that, the group dispersed. Nash and Trisha went into the kitchen to prepare Ed’s cake for presentation. Ed ran up to his room to find a hiding place for Omega Supreme while Russell, Al, Winry, and Fletcher started a game of Candy Land. And Roy decided to do his part by helping Pinako pick up some of the disaster that had befallen the living room.  
  
“So,” Pinako began. “I hear you’ll be coming to visit me next Friday.”  
  
At first, Roy had no idea what she was talking about. Then he remembered. Ed’s automail procedure.  
  
“Oh. Yeah, I will.” He held a large garbage bag open for her to dump a wad of torn paper and destroyed balloon fragments. “I just hope Ed’s ready to go through all of that.”  
  
Pinako laughed. Roy had no idea why but apparently his comment amused her greatly.  
  
“You are a sweet one, aren't you?” The elderly woman patted Roy’s arm. “But _Ed’s_ not the one I’m worried about.”  
  
She moved on, joining the children and leaving Roy to contemplate her words. While doing so, he tied up the bag and hauled it outside around the house, where he found Trisha sneaking not only a cigarette, but a small glass of wine, as well.  
  
“Like I've said before, you know that’ll stunt your growth,” he told her.  
  
“Hush.” She smiled warmly at him and beckoned him over, lifting the lid of the trash can so that he could place the bag inside. “I have to tell you, Roy. You _really_ made Ed’s day with that Oregano Supreme.”  
  
Roy almost bit his tongue in half to keep from laughing out loud. “Um… it’s… _Omega_ ,” he said, trying his damnedest not to crack up.  
  
“Ahhh, that makes more sense.” She grinned at herself and shrugged. “Close enough.”  
  
Roy sighed and gazed up at the vast evening sky. He had every intention of going back inside but first, he just wanted a minute or two to enjoy the peace.  
  
“Anything new with you?” Trisha asked. She paused and craned her head towards the house when she heard a child’s scream. After ascertaining that it was a scream of happiness and not pain, she took a hit off her cigarette and continued speaking. “How are things going with Maes?”  
  
Roy nodded. “Things are good…”  
  
Having dealt with a child like Ed for eight, make that _nine_ years now, Trisha was good at knowing when there was more to the story.  
  
“But?”  
  
Roy smirked. He should have known better. And it wasn’t anything that had to do with Maes himself. No, things were great as always there. Better than great.  
  
However.  
  
It had more to do with the things that had been weighing on his mind since the night they slept together. ( _Literally_ slept.) Even though Maes had insisted on locking the bedroom door in case his parents came home earlier than expected, Roy was still nervous as all hell, and had spent most of the night being jolted out of a sound sleep, convinced that every little noise he heard was the sound of the Hugheses knocking on the door.  
  
But the couple had made it through the night undiscovered as Maes’ parents didn’t come home until their expected arrival time. Unfortunately, that led to the other thing that bothered Roy.  
  
It was becoming steadily harder for him to remember how to treat Maes as “just a friend” when his parents were home. Even though certain things were obvious--no making out at the dinner table, no handjobs during the evening news--Roy was starting to question everything else. Did a simple glance look too gay? Did the answer to a question sound more like some secret homosexual code? Should they sit farther apart when playing video games or watching TV so as not to arouse suspicion?  
  
And then there was the most damning thing of all, the thing that tied Roy’s gut into a huge knot of anger and frustration. All the fucking girl talk. Mr. Hughes was still convinced that his son was getting more sex than anyone else in the free world and never hesitated to ask him about it. Roy had to give Maes credit for dodging the questions when he could, but it still troubled him deeply to know that the same man who had no qualms seeing his son whore it up for the ladies would also most likely disown him for being in love with another guy. Especially another guy who happened to live under the same roof, at least until he saw fit to kick him out.  
  
Or who knew? Maybe not. Roy didn’t know for sure. But even for his lack of years, he knew enough not to assume that every adult was as accepting as Trisha Elric.  
  
Whatever the case, the worrying alone was starting to drive him crazy.  
  
“Oh, Roy,” Trisha said after he finished venting. “I wish I could tell you that his parents would be okay with it. I wish the two of you could come out to them and they would throw you a big old gay party.”  
  
Roy smiled at that, thinking back to the “Yay for Being Gay” surprise party thrown by Jean, Riza, and Sheska.  
  
“And I wish that you could grow up and not have to worry about people judging you or maybe even trying to harm you in some way.”  
  
Her eyes hazed over for a moment when she said that, and Roy would never know that she was thinking back to something that Hohenheim had said to her when she stopped by to pick up his present for Ed, implying that he would have done something potentially drastic to remove Roy from Ed’s life. Nor would Roy ever know that she probably would have done something drastic in return had the man ever tried to hurt Roy in any way.  
  
Mama bear? Roy didn’t know the _half_ of it.  
  
“But you already know that sometimes the world just plain fucking sucks,” Trisha continued. “So all I can tell you is this.”  
  
She stubbed out the cigarette and tossed the butt in the garbage, then moved close to the teen and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.  
  
“There will always be at least one place where you are completely free to be who you are. And as for getting kicked out of Maes’ house…” Trisha shook her head. “As long as I’m around, you will _always_ have a home.”  
  
It was just as well that she chose that moment to hug Roy, because he had no idea how to even begin to articulate everything that he was feeling. Plus there was something in his eyes, which was really annoying, and he pressed his face against her shoulder to rid himself of it.  
  
So, that’s what a mother’s love felt like.  
  
Eventually, Trisha pulled back and playfully mussed Roy’s hair. “Alright then,” she said, clearing her throat. “Let’s go have some cake.”  
  
“And ice cream,” Roy reminded her.  
  
“And ice cream,” she agreed with a chuckle. “Just don’t let Ed hear you say that.”  
  
*****  
  
With the dining room lights dimmed and the birthday boy seated at the head of the table, Trisha entered the room with one of the coolest cakes that Roy had ever seen.  
  
As everyone started singing “Happy Birthday” (and way off key, at that) Roy looked up to find golden eyes staring at him over the light of nine candles. A wave of love washed over him when Ed smiled, stronger than any he had ever felt before.  
  
And years later, when that love took an unexpected turn for the romantic, Roy would occasionally think back on that one perfect moment and fondly recall the little boy that smiled at him through the fire.  
  
*****  
  
Pinako and a yawning Winry left around nine. Since Russell and Fletcher were spending the night, Nash stayed a little longer and followed Trisha into the kitchen to help clean up.  
  
Roy joined the boys in Ed’s room, carefully stepping over the small bodies splayed every which way and taking a seat on the floor beside Ed’s bed. They sat and talked and read through Ed’s collection of manga. Fletcher had the audacity to say that Naruto was better than both Ichigo and Goku, and Roy was slightly worried that the kid might not survive through the night.  
  
One by one the cards folded. Al caved first, flat on his back and snoring louder than seemed possible for someone his age. Then Fletcher and then Russell, who at least managed to stay awake long enough to say goodnight.  
  
And then there was one.  
  
“You really should get some sleep, Ed.” Roy stood up and stretched out his legs before sitting back down on the edge of Ed’s bed. It wasn’t so much that he cared that he wasn’t “allowed” to leave until Ed fell asleep, as dictated by the boy himself. He just hated to see him wear himself out any more than he already had that day.  
  
“I wanna stay up ‘til twelve,” Ed muttered tiredly. “After my birthday is over.”  
  
It was already 11:30. Roy wasn’t sure that the youngster was going to make it. But he also knew that Ed was stubborn enough to put up a damn good fight.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Roy tried to rearrange his feet and accidentally kicked Al, who merely snorted in response. The teen carefully rolled him over, which made the child’s snoring not _quite_ as bad as it had been.  
  
“Did you have a good day?” he asked Ed when he sat back up.  
  
Ed nodded slowly. His eyes closed and Roy thought for sure that he was out. But then they suddenly opened wide and Ed sat up straight in the bed, yawning, but still somewhat awake for the most part.  
  
“I’m up!” he insisted to no one in particular.  
  
“If you say so.” Grinning, Roy scooted back along the mattress so that he could sit cross-legged now that Ed had moved his feet. He was about to speak again when Ed caught him off guard by flinging off his blanket, crawling towards the center of the bed, and flopping back down with his head propped against Roy’s thigh, using it as a pillow of sorts.  
  
“... Ed?”  
  
“I'm up,” Ed mumbled.  
  
But not for much longer. Although Roy was impressed that he had made it this far.  
  
He brought his arm down along his thigh and let his hand come to rest on top of a nest of blond hair.  
  
“Do you like your Omega Supreme?” he asked. Quietly, in case Ed had already fallen asleep again.  
  
“Mm-hm.”  
  
“Are you going to let Al play with it?”  
  
“ _Hell_  no.”  
  
Well, at least he managed to answer _that_ question like he meant it.  
  
“... Roy?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
The room was quiet again--except for Al--and Roy thought maybe this time--  
  
“Today was the… best… birth… day....”  
  
And that was it.  
  
Roy checked the time. It was 11:37. Close enough.  
  
He waited a few more minutes to make sure that Ed was truly sleeping. After that, he carefully moved him back to his rightful place and tucked the blanket around him.  
  
After texting Maes, Roy went downstairs and poked his head through the kitchen door to say goodnight to Trisha. And Nash. And tried not to show too much amusement over whatever was going on there.  
  
Despite Trisha’s protests, he opted to sit outside and wait for Maes to pick him up. And as he gazed up at the vast night sky, he started thinking ahead to future birthdays and wondering whether or not they would be as memorable for Ed as this one.  
  
Roy hoped that they would be. For Ed’s sake.  
  
… As well as his own.


	29. Chapter 29

Because Ed was still riding high from what he considered to be the best birthday ever, the school week that followed was somewhat tolerable. Almost nice. Bordering on good. Not even those snotty twin brats, Rose and Noa, could dampen his mood. And boy, did they try. But Ed was having none of it, and as an added bonus, he discovered that ignoring the girls agitated them far more than middle fingers and swear words. While he personally preferred middle fingers and swear words, he was also quite happy to have this new weapon in his arsenal to whip out whenever he felt like taking the high road. Which, he had to admit, probably wouldn’t be very often.  
  
By the time Friday rolled around, his high was starting to fade. The time had come for his automail to be replaced, and he liked the idea of that about as much as drinking a gallon of milk. Actually, he would have _rather_ drank an entire gallon of milk than go through the ordeal that awaited him. Well... okay, maybe not. But it was going to suck nevertheless.  
  
The _only_ thing that made him feel better was knowing that Roy would be by his side during the procedure. The two of them had gotten along spectacularly the past week, which had contributed greatly to Ed’s overall mood. Most of their evenings and nights had consisted of playing various board and card games, and Ed was even nice enough not to cheat. Much. (And he would have gotten away with it if not for that pesky little brother of his.) Perhaps there really was something to be said for not going out of his way to torment the teen. Of course he would continue to do so, but maybe not as much as before.  
  
“How long will this take?” Roy asked as they walked the quarter of a mile it took to get to Pinako’s house. It was slow going because Al kept getting distracted by random things along the way.  
  
“About an hour, I think.” Ed felt no need to divulge that it could possibly take longer depending on whether or not there were any complications, like that one time a couple of years ago when Pinako had had one hell of a time getting his automail leg to cooperate with his thigh muscles and he had briefly passed out from the pain of repeated attempts at attaching it. The last thing he wanted to do was say anything that might make Roy change his mind about going with him. He didn’t think that would happen but it was better to be safe than sorry.  
  
“That doesn’t seem so bad.” Roy looked over his shoulder at the child who had stopped at some point to investigate something on the ground. “Come on, Al. Keep up.”  
  
After picking up a rock that he found intriguing for reasons known only to him, Al sprinted to catch up with Ed and Roy. Ed was mildly annoyed by the way that the boy nudged his way between him and Roy, and even more so when Al took Roy by the hand as they continued their trek. He wanted to hold Roy’s hand too, although the act would have had a far different—and much deeper—meaning for him. But alas, he was too mature for such things. Damn it all.  
  
“Are you okay?” Roy asked, peering at Ed over Al’s head. “Your face is pretty red.”  
  
Ed silently cursed the blush that crept into his cheeks at the thought of holding Roy’s hand. “I’m fine,” he insisted, scowling.  
  
“You sure, Brother?” Al piped in. “Because your face is really, _really_ red.”  
  
“I said I’m _fine_.” Ed glanced at his clueless younger brother. “Show me your stupid rock,” he said, trying to distract him.  
  
His efforts paid off and he spent the next couple of minutes pretending to care about the rock that Al just had to have while his traveling companions talked about the possible reasons behind Waldo’s desire to hide so much, which was apparently something that Al had contemplated often, silly and adorable thing that he was. By the time Ed handed it back, they had arrived at Pinako’s house, where the old woman was waiting for them.  
  
“Hello, boys.” She took the pipe from her mouth and looked at Ed. “Are you ready?”  
  
Ed shrugged and nodded. He thought the question a strange one. Was there ever truly a way to be fully prepared for having one’s artificial limbs replaced?  
  
“Here you go,” Pinako said as she handed him a neatly folded hospital-style gown (the kind that fortunately _wouldn’t_ show off his bum).  
  
Ed stared at Roy, who was temporarily held hostage by Al, Winry, and Al’s rock. The teen noticed him and smiled, causing Ed’s heart to flutter. He escaped to the bathroom before he was caught blushing once again. What the hell was his problem? Well, having a crush on the damn babysitter, that was his problem. He just wished that he could do a better job of hiding it.  
  
After getting changed, Ed stepped out of the bathroom. He spotted Al and Winry sitting in front of the TV and graciously decided not to say something to embarrass his brother. Oh, but he would later when they were alone. It was interesting to him that Al could be so affectionate with Roy but always kept a respectable distance from the person he like-liked. Then again, Ed supposed that the situation was no different for him. He never went out of his way to be affectionate towards Roy but he never minded Winry’s presence even if she was composed primarily of cooties (and not that sugar and spice bullshit that people said little girls were made of), except for the couple of times when she whacked him with a wrench because she was occasionally a jerk like that.  
  
He made his way through the house, the tile floor cool against his right foot. When he reached the workshop, he found a now pipeless Pinako schooling Roy on the various implements she would be using to perform the limb replacement. Ed bit back a smile at the horrified look on the teen’s face; this was old hat to him but he had to remember that this was all new to Roy. To anyone who didn’t know better, the scene must have looked like something straight out of a horror movie.  
  
“I’m ready,” he announced.  
  
“Let’s get this show on the road,” Pinako said. “Ed, get your butt on the bed. Roy, you can plop yourself down on the chair beside the bed and stay the hell out of my way.”  
  
Ed was glad that he had mastered the art of climbing onto the hospital bed in lieu of needing a stool. He made himself as comfortable as he could on the cold, stiff bed and raised the rail on the left side in the event that he needed to grab onto something while fighting his way through the pain... and also to protect Roy from any accidental flailing. He blinked at Roy as the teen took a seat and felt a stab of guilt over the uncertainty he saw.  
  
“Are you sorry I asked you to be with me?” he inquired shyly.  
  
“No,” Roy replied with a fierce shake of the head. “Not one bit. Just... tell me what to do, Ed. To help you through this.”  
  
Ed had thought that he couldn’t possibly adore Roy more than he already did. He was wrong.  
  
“Talk to me,” he said as Pinako rolled up the right sleeve of his gown until his shoulder was fully exposed.  
  
“That’s it?”  
  
Ed nodded. “That’s it.”  
  
“About what?”  
  
“Anything. Just talk.”  
  
As Pinako went to work, Roy started with tales of his own past school week. Ed couldn’t help but notice that the young man was going out of his way to keep a certain boyfriend’s name out of the conversation. He tried to keep his expression even as that old familiar feeling of pressure in his neck and chest—a precursor to the pain—became stronger.  
  
“High school sounds pretty bor— _nnngh_!!!”  
  
Ed clenched his teeth as a bolt of pain raced up his neck and over his upper chest. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to by now but it still hurt like a son of a bitch.  
  
“How are you doing, Ed?” Pinako asked.  
  
“I’m okay.” Ed looked to Roy, who looked anything but. “Roy?”  
  
“I’m... I’m okay, too.” The teen ran a shaky hand through his hair and gave his best imitation of a smile. “Wh-Where was I?”  
  
“History class. You were talking about your friend, Shasta.”  
  
“Sheska,” Roy corrected, trying his damnedest not to stare at whatever Pinako was doing that had caused Ed to break into a sweat.  
  
He continued talking about his pals, Shas—Sheska, Riza, and Jean, the guy Ed and Al had had so much fun abusing at the park. And he was doing a fair job of it until Pinako wrenched Ed’s automail arm from the port, causing him to yelp suddenly.  
  
 _“Ed?”_  
  
“Keep talking,” the child insisted. “What do you do with your friends when you’re not at school?”  
  
But Roy was too distracted by the sight of Ed’s arm to speak. Ed was curious if he still thought it was as cool as he had claimed when they first met.  
  
He tried again. “Roy?”  
  
“Oh, sorry.” Roy cleared his throat. “We do, you know, stuff.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Play video games, eat pizza, drink b—soda, that kind of thing.”  
  
“All right, Ed, new arm’s going in,” Pinako warned.  
  
Ed grabbed onto the bed rail with his left hand. Even in his present state, he was amused to see that he wasn’t the only one holding onto it for dear life. But his amusement soon gave way to another sharp yelp as his new automail arm was shoved into place. He closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh, and then rejoiced despite the pain when cool—though slightly trembling—digits swept across his forehead, wiping away the sweat.  
  
After Pinako was done, she instructed him to wiggle his fingers. He was half-tempted to flip her the bird but knew better than to piss her off. Instead, he moved his fingers and flexed at the elbow. It was going to be a while before he could do anything more than that.  
  
“Easy part’s done,” she said, satisfied with his actions.  
  
Roy gawked at the elderly woman. “That was the easy part?”  
  
“His port didn’t need to be replaced this time,” she explained. “That tends to be... a little trickier.”  
  
“A little, my ass,” Ed muttered.  
  
“You watch your goddamn mouth,” Pinako barked, though the reprimand was offset by a grandmotherly pat on the chest.  
  
As she moved to the foot of the bed to deal with his automail leg, Ed stared at Roy, who looked positively sick to his stomach. “Still not sorry?”  
  
Roy brushed away a bead of sweat that threatened to roll down Ed’s temple. “Still not sorry,” he replied softly.  
  
Ed wondered, though, if Roy might have changed his mind when he saw how Pinako strapped Ed’s thighs to the bed. “It’s to keep my legs from moving around too much,” he told him.  
  
“I figured, but still...”  
  
The conversation turned to Transformers. Ed told Roy just how much he was enjoying his new Omega Supreme and that he played with it every day before Roy came over. He had even allowed Al to play with it. Once. For about a minute. Rather generous, as far as Ed was concerned.  
  
“I don’t know how I’m going to top that next year,” Roy said.  
  
“You’ll think of some—”  
  
Ed didn’t just yelp this time. He _screamed_. His body jerked and jolted as Pinako carefully detached metal from flesh, which caused his new arm to twist in the port and heighten the pain. He was vaguely aware of Roy calling his name repeatedly, and his eyes began to sting with the threat of tears. Ed’s leg felt like it was being ripped apart, and it hurt like a hundred kinds of hell, but he would not cry, not if he could help it. Not in front of Roy.  
  
“Optimus Prime!” he shouted suddenly, catching Roy off guard.  
  
“... What?”  
  
“Get... me... Optimus... Prime.”  
  
Ed winced and cringed as his automail leg was removed. He fell back against the bed with no recollection of having raised his body off of it and let out a long, shuddering breath. Nor did he have any idea when Roy had cradled his face in his hands to distract him. His body may have been in pain, but his heart was overjoyed.  
  
“You already have an Optimus Prime,” Roy pointed out.  
  
Ed shook his head. “ _You_ have it.”  
  
“Oh yeah.”  
  
Ed surrendered any hope he had of maintaining his composure when Pinako began attaching his new leg. Every fiber of leg muscle, every single nerve, _his entire body_ felt like it was on fire. While he still managed, miraculously, not to cry in front of Roy, he was now at the point where he was also praying like hell that he wouldn’t throw up all over him. As much as he wanted to be comforted by Roy’s soothing words and gestures, there was nothing that the teenager could do to alleviate the enormity of the agony that consumed him.  
  
After what felt like forever, Pinako was finally finished. Ed closed his eyes, causing a single tear to roll down the side of his face, but he was too busy trying to cling to his waning consciousness to care. He could hear Pinako speaking quietly to Roy before leaving the room and soon after felt a cold, wet cloth swiping at his face. It felt good. It felt...  
  
Sometime later, Ed opened his eyes. His throat was sore from screaming, his poor body still ached, and the test wiggle he gave his new automail toes didn’t help matters. But the worst, thankfully, was over. With any luck, it would be at least another year before he had to go through this again. Ed usually hated being a slow grower, but at times like these, it was much to his advantage.  
  
He heard the hitching of breath and looked to his left. What he saw pained him far more than anything he had just experienced.  
  
Roy was crying.  
  
“Roy?”  
  
“I’m okay,” Roy said, wiping furiously at his eyes.  
  
“No you’re not,” Ed replied, golden eyes wide and worried. “Why are you crying?”  
  
“Because you were in pain and I couldn’t do anything to make it stop.” Roy pinched the bridge of his nose, his brow creased in a frown that made him look considerably older. “It makes me sad to see you hurting so much.”  
  
Ed bit his bottom lip, which had begun to quiver. The stinging in his eyes was back, and he blinked away his own tears as best he could. “Well,” he began, his voice unsteady. “It makes me sad to see you sad so stop it.”  
  
Roy chuckled through his tears at the demand. “I'll try.”  
  
“Will you stay here with me?”  
  
“I’m not going anywhere,” Roy promised.  
  
Ed closed his eyes again; keeping them open right now was hard work. He kept them closed, even when a hand covered his and held it tightly. He had gotten his wish, after all.  
  
And in that one blissful moment, Ed knew in his heart that he would never love _anyone_ as much as he loved Roy Mustang.  
  



	30. Chapter 30

Ed woke up when he heard his mother moving around in the kitchen, but he kept his eyes closed to shut out the offensive light of a bright Saturday morning. He had insisted on sleeping on the living room sofa because his sore, tired little body didn’t have the energy to hop and/or crawl up the stairs and into his bedroom and, being the mature nine-year-old he now was, he hadn’t wanted to rely on his mother to carry him there. Of course he didn’t have a problem with Roy carrying him all the way home from Pinako’s house and helping him into his pajamas, but that was different. That was… everything.  
  
The mouth-watering smell of breakfast wafted into the room and made his stomach growl. Ed hadn’t had much of an appetite in the hours following his procedure, but now he was ravenous. Inhaling deeply, he detected eggs, pancakes, and bacon or ham or something else that was once a pig. If he played his cards right, he thought that he might also be able to score a piece of chocolate cake; his mom was hardly a pushover, but she was often quite lenient immediately following his automail attachments.  
  
The sound of nearby movement caught his attention and only then did he open his eyes. He struggled to sit up, wincing at the effort it took, and peered over the edge of the sofa toward the floor. Al was wrapped up in a blanket adorned with kittens, and Ed felt a surge of love for the devoted little boy… although that was not going to stop him from having the child wait on him hand and foot throughout the day. Besides, Al never minded doing his bidding when he was laid up so who was he to deny him the honor?  
  
“Morning, Al.”  
  
Al poked his head out from the blanket, yawned loudly, and smiled. His hair was sticking up every which way, making him even more adorable than usual. “Hi, Brother. You feel okay today?”  
  
Truthfully, Ed felt like hammered shit. The deep, gnawing pain that had settled into his body since last night wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, but he would put up a brave front like he always did. His mom knew better but he didn’t want Al to worry. “Yeah, I’m okay.” And because he loved his sibling, even while taking advantage of him—which he felt was his right as an older brother—he added, “Thank you for staying with me.”  
  
Al’s eyes and smile widened considerably. It wasn’t often that Ed was so openly kind. “You’re welcome.”  
  
Trisha entered the living room with a tray that held two overflowing plates of food, a glass of orange juice for Ed, and milk for Al. Ed was so hungry that he didn’t even care that the juice and milk were in such close proximity, although he had every intention of closely inspecting his drink to make sure that no offensive white liquid had somehow made the jump from Al’s glass to his.  
  
“Good morning, boys,” she said, cheerful as ever while serving them. “Eat fast. We’re going to have company in a little while.”  
  
Al perked up. “Is it Miss Pinako and Winry?”  
  
This almost prompted a smartass reply by Ed regarding the boy’s crush on Winry, but then he remembered that he was being nice for a change.  
  
“Is it Russell?” he asked through a mouthful of bacon. Despite the pain he was in, he wouldn’t have minded at all being visited by his friend. Although he knew well enough not to expect that Russell could spend _every_ weekend at his house, he could always hope.  
  
“You’ll see,” Trisha promised them with a knowing smile.  
  
She tucked the tray under her arm and returned to the kitchen, leaving them to their meals. They took turns drowning their pancakes in an obscene amount of syrup and then gorged themselves in contented silence, at least until Ed—having deemed his orange juice free of milk and therefore suitable for drinking—let out an impossibly loud belch.  
  
“Ewwww, Brother!” Al said before unleashing a belch of his own.  
  
Naturally, a contest ensued. Just as Al was getting the better of Ed, who was genuinely impressed that so much noise could emanate from the gut of such a small boy, Trisha poked her head into the living room and gave them the dreaded mom-look… and then let out a most undignified burp of her own that left the boys in stitches.  
  
When they were finished eating their breakfast _and_ their cake, Al ran upstairs to get ready for the day while Ed gingerly swung his legs over the sofa and onto the floor and tried to mentally prepare himself for the short trip into the downstairs bathroom. Fortunately, his mother had the foresight to grab a change of clothes and his toothbrush from upstairs, so half the battle was already won. The easy part.  
  
“Edward?” Trisha called out to him from the kitchen doorway, noticing his hesitation. “Do you need help?”  
  
“I can do it,” Ed reassured her. Now if he could just reassure himself.  
  
Trisha nodded and left him to it, though Ed suspected that she was keeping her ears open in case he needed her help after all.  
  
He stood slowly on his right leg, willing himself not to wobble. After a moment, he placed an automail foot on the floor and clenched his teeth as a fresh bolt of pain surged up his thigh and hip. The bathroom suddenly felt like it was miles away as opposed to right across the room, but he was determined to make it there on his own. Upright, if possible.  
  
Clutching his things, he put just enough weight on his automail leg to quickly shuffle the other forward. It didn’t feel good but it beat trying to bunny hop with a full bladder. It was slow and painful going at first, but he eventually made it into the bathroom and smiled proudly despite his discomfort. Peeing on one leg was way more difficult than it should have been, but he staunchly refused to sit down because that was for girls and number two. It took some time, but he finally managed to change his clothes and brush his teeth. Afterwards, he hop-shuffled back into the living room, where Trisha had folded up his and Al’s blankets and Al was back with stacks of books and games.  
  
The boys set up shop on the floor and busied themselves with Candy Land (a game Al could never get enough of and one that did not involve actual candy, which Ed thought was bullshit) and cartoons. They became so engrossed in what they were doing that they forgot what Trisha had told them and were stunned when someone came knocking an hour later. Ed watched as she went to the door and opened it… and his heart almost leapt out of his chest at the sight of Roy.  
  
Roy was there! _His_ Roy (as far as he was concerned)! On a Saturday morning!  
  
He left the squeals of joy to Al and tried not to look _too_ happy to see him, although he did die inside just a little bit when the teen looked at him and smiled.  
  
“Hey guys.” Roy stepped inside and was immediately tackled by Al. “Long time, no see.”  
  
“But you were just here last night,” Al pointed out, missing the joke.  
  
Roy chuckled at the child, then picked him up and slung him over his shoulder, much to Al’s kicking and screaming delight. Ed thought his brother was being a complete baby about the whole situation… and he was so incredibly jealous.  
  
The young man brought his wriggling haul over to the sofa and joined Ed on the floor. “Good morning,” he said as he lowered Al down. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“I’m fine.” Ed was glad that his mother had returned to the kitchen so that she didn’t witness another blatant fib. “It’s Saturday,” he said, as if Roy had no idea what day of the week it was.  
  
“I know,” Roy replied, leaning to one side to pull out a book he accidentally sat on. “I wanted to check in on you.”  
  
“You came here… for me?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Ed gaped at the teenager, his pain temporarily forgotten. Having Roy present for his automail replacement was one thing, and a _big_ thing at that. But that he had taken the time to come see him on his day off when he was under no obligation to do so? The enormity of the gesture left Ed speechless.  
  
Al, on the other hand, was not. “What about me?”  
  
“You too, Al,” Roy told him while ruffling his hair. “I could never forget about you.”  
  
“Yay! Wanna play Candy Land?”  
  
*****  
  
Roy thought it was bullshit that a game named Candy Land involved no actual candy, but since it made Al happy, he spent the next half hour playing it while Ed sat beside him and read one of his weird manga about Balls or Bankais or whatever. Trisha interrupted long enough to attempt to force some food on him—because she was a mom through and through, even to him—but then disappeared to get some housework done while her sons were distracted.  
  
Ed didn’t seem any worse for wear, although Roy did notice the occasional cringe or scowl whenever he shifted his leg. Still, he appeared to be in _considerably_ better shape than he did the night before, when he had looked so pale and hurt and tired after being tucked in on the sofa that Roy was scared to leave him. He was relieved when Trisha had given him permission to come over today (although he honestly didn’t think she would have refused) and also that Maes had agreed to drop him off for a few hours with minimal bribing because he was the best boyfriend in the world.  
  
Later on, Trisha returned to the living room, wringing her hands worriedly. “Roy, I hate to ask you this because you’re here as a guest, but would you mind if I stepped out for a bit? I promised Nash… I mean _Mr. Tringham_ … that I would bring him a cake, and I just found out he won’t be home this afternoon so I have to do it now. I’ll pay you.”  
  
“You don’t have to pay me.” Upon further consideration, Roy smirked and added, “But a piece of cake does sound about right.”  
  
“You can have two,” Trisha replied, beaming. She looked at her youngest son. “Alphonse? Would you like to come with me? I bet Fletcher would love to see you.”  
  
Al perked up at the offer. Then he remembered his guest and a dilemma was born. “But Roy’s here…”  
  
Roy was touched that the child cared enough about his feelings to worry that he might be offended at being passed over for more age-appropriate company. “It’s okay, Al. You get to see me all the time. Go on.”  
  
He had barely finished speaking before Al was on his feet and ready to go, and he couldn’t help but grin at the drastically sudden change of heart. Despite the fast dismissal, he was pleased to see Al get so excited about visiting Fletcher and wished that he had even more friends to keep company with.  
  
He also had a sneaking suspicion that Trisha could have taken Nash Tringham a cake just as easily on Sunday (presuming Ed was up to the task of accompanying her by then) but was wise enough to do it now so that he and Ed could spend some time alone, which was more likely for Ed’s sake than his own. Indeed, Ed hadn’t looked up from his book the entire time they spoke, but only a blind person and a blessedly clueless Al would have missed the slight upturn of his lips after Al agreed to accompany their mother. Roy still wasn’t sure if all moms had a sixth sense, but Trisha Elric seemed to have it in spades.  
  
After they left, Roy tapped Ed on the head. “Want some cake?”  
  
“I already had—I mean, sure.”  
  
Roy went into the kitchen and plated two gigantic slices of chocolate cake. He didn’t feel guilty about giving Ed a slice after he almost let it slip that he’d had one already; Trisha had told Roy to take two slices, and the way he saw it, he was just obeying orders. When Ed’s eyes lit up upon being presented a piece, he knew that he had done the right thing.  
  
“So what’s new in the world of Dragon Ball?” he asked, tapping the cover of the manga that Ed put aside. “That’s the one with Goku, right?”  
  
Ed was impressed that the teen had remembered as much from his various debates with Russell. “Yep. They found all the balls and now they’re about to make their wishes.” He wiped a smudge of chocolate frosting from the corner of his mouth and asked, “What would you wish for?”  
  
“Money,” Roy answered immediately. “Lots of it. Like millions. What about you?”  
  
Ed polished off the rest of his cake (in record time, Roy noted) and set his plate on the floor. He folded his legs (not without some difficulty, Roy also noted) and lowered his head, staring thoughtfully at his tiny automail toes.  
  
“I’d wish for my arm and leg again,” he replied softly. “My _real_ ones.”  
  
All at once, Roy felt like an asshole for wanting money. “I changed my mind,” he said. “I’d give you my wish.”  
  
“Really?” Ed raised his head and blinked at Roy, wide-eyed and hopeful. “You would?”  
  
“Yeah, I would. Besides, if I were rich, then I wouldn’t be working here… and I _like_ working here… so it’s a good thing I’m poor.”  
  
Roy didn’t think that Ed would ever stop smiling. And he didn’t want him to.  
  
“Will you take me upstairs?” Ed asked suddenly.  
  
“Uh… sure, but…” Roy nodded toward the bathroom door. “There’s a toilet right over there.”  
  
Ed shook his head. “I don’t have to go. I… I’m ready. You said I didn’t have to until I was ready and now I am.”  
  
“Ready for what?”  
  
“To tell you.”  
  
Roy inclined his head, confused and curious. “Tell me what, Ed?”  
  
The child heaved a long, deep sigh and said, “What happened.”  
  
“What are you talking—oh.” Roy regarded the boy’s determined face. “Are you sure you want to?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“... Okay.”  
  
For all the turning points that had occurred throughout their time together, Roy understood that this was perhaps the biggest one of all. Ed was about to divulge the story behind his physical condition, a story he had hardly been able to begin a while back. The teen felt honored that Ed was finally ready to tell him how he lost his right arm and left leg. Honored… and a fair bit nervous, too. He had already shed tears for this child; what would this do to him?  
  
Roy picked Ed up as carefully as he could. Every moan and hiss of pain was like a knife straight through his heart, but he soldiered on until he was standing upright with Ed tucked safely in his arms. He then headed up the stairs as cautiously as he could manage while small flesh and automail appendages tightened around him and a warm, blushing face burrowed into his neck, each step taking him closer to the second floor and the one thing he had wanted to know most of all ever since Edward Elric came into his life.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you in the sequel, boys. And THANK YOU to everyone who has read and commented. I appreciate it more than you know. <3

Ed tugged on Roy’s hair when they reached the top of the stairs. Although Roy had been preoccupied on the way up, seesawing between curiosity and nervousness, he was still able to find humor in the child’s preferred method for getting his attention.  
  
“What am I, a horse?” he asked jokingly.  
  
“Giddy-up,” Ed shot back. His grin gradually faded and he regarded the teen with determination in his golden eyes. “I can walk the rest of the way.”  
  
“But your bedroom is just right there,” Roy said, pointing at Ed’s door. “I’ll take you.”  
  
Ed shook his head, causing his cowlick to sway to and fro. “I gotta get something out of my mom’s room first.”  
  
Roy immediately understood. Mom rooms were sacred spaces not to be invaded by random house guests. He was impressed that Ed was aware enough to know and respect that, whereas Al, bless his heart, probably would have invited him right in without giving it a second thought.  
  
He lowered Ed to the floor carefully, watching him closely for the first hint of discomfort. The boy’s brow was creased but there were no moans or yelps or any other obvious signs that he was hurting. Roy guessed that he was holding it in for his benefit, but he kept mum while Ed limped away from him and into his mother’s bedroom. How most parents—especially Trisha Elric— just stood back and helplessly witnessed their children soldiering on through pain, he would never know.  
  
Ed exited the room a couple of minutes later with a piece of paper clutched in his left hand. Upon closer inspection, Roy realized it was a newspaper clipping, and his curiosity intensified. Whatever had happened to Ed was serious enough that an article had been written about it. It was intriguing in the worst possible way.  
  
The nine-year-old paused in front of the door and blinked expectantly at Roy. Roy immediately understood that as well. Despite Ed’s silence, his flushed face and heaving chest were a dead giveaway for the soreness he felt. Ten feet probably felt like a mile to the poor boy, and he had already made the trip one way. Roy went over to him and picked him up, to which Ed responded with a sigh of relief and gratitude. They went into Ed’s bedroom, where Roy carefully made his way along the Transformers and Lego-littered floor until he reached the bed. He sat Ed down on the edge and took a seat beside him.  
  
Minutes passed. Roy waited quietly, giving Ed all the time he needed to proceed. For all he knew, this was not an account the kid had ever given to anyone else, and damned if he was about to rush him. He looked around the room and fondly recalled the first time he laid eyes on the assorted displays of geekiness. Roy found himself wondering if Ed’s interests would keep as he grew up, or if he would ever one day consider himself too mature for the toys and the comics that presently comprised a large portion of his belongings. He hoped for the former.  
  
Ed spoke up just as Roy had noticed that Omega Supreme was front and center on the dresser in what was noticeably a position of honor (and contemplated what threats of bodily harm had been issued to prevent a certain little brother from touching it).  
  
“It was after _he_ left,” he began, his face twisted in disgust at the mention of his father. “Mom… she was really sad… She tried not to be in front of us, but I could tell she was.” Ed raised his right foot and wiggled his toes, something he couldn’t quite yet do with the left. His voice was calm but guarded, and he proceeded cautiously, taking his time, choosing his words with care. “I didn’t want to bother her, so me and Al… we would play outside. We played outside _a lot_.”  
  
Silence again. The newspaper clipping rested against his right thigh, and Roy averted his gaze to keep from succumbing to the urge to peek at it.  
  
“One day…” Ed continued after a time. “One day we were in the backyard. Al… Al was… I thought…”  
  
Roy turned in time to find wide eyes staring at him. Eyes that were filled with sadness. And guilt.  
  
“I didn’t know that he could open the gate. I didn’t see him get out. But… then I heard him yell.”  
  
Between those words and the memory of Pinako telling him that Ed’s limbs had been ripped off, it was all starting to come together for Roy, and he felt sick to his stomach. For one crazy and desperate moment, he almost stopped Ed from finishing the story. He suddenly didn’t want to know whatever terrible, horrible thing had happened to this child. He didn’t want to be scared for him all over again, to experience the dread and worry and fear and heartache over an event that happened years before, to feel the sting of tears over something he could never change. He didn’t want to care one single bit about Edward Elric.  
  
But then the feeling passed, just as quickly as it had occurred. Of course he wanted those things. It was far too late to pretend that their existences weren’t intertwined as a result of their time together (both good and bad), or that Ed, bratty little thing that he was, didn’t already own a piece of his heart.  
  
Roy staved off his apprehension. Ed wanted to share his story, to tell Roy the whole truth. That sort of thing, on the heels of being asked to accompany him for his automail replacement, denoted a level of trust that ran deep, right down to the core. And so Roy would accept that truth, no matter how much it hurt. And even though Ed’s trust was not a tangible thing like Optimus Prime or the salvaged tulip, it was, by far, the best gift that Ed had ever given him.  
  
“Go on,” he said softly, encouraging him with a nod.  
  
Ed stared down at his lap, his eyes open but not seeing. “There were two of ‘em. They were so big. Their teeth were sharp, like a bunch of little knives all at the same time. I don’t remember much else before I woke up, but I remember that. Big. Sharp.”  
  
He held out the clipping. Roy took it with a trembling hand. Then, with a deep sigh, he started to read. He had barely gotten past the title— _Small Child Savaged in Wild Dog Attack_ —before his eyes started to blur, and he blinked rapidly to bring the words back into focus. Key phrases screamed at him from the article, searing into his mind:  
  
_… viciously mauled…  
  
… tossed around like a rag doll…  
  
… gruesome tug-of-war…  
  
… tearing chunks out of his flesh…  
  
… torn apart…  
  
… covered in blood…  
  
… screaming for help…  
  
… critical condition…  
  
… brink of death..._  
  
“Oh my God.” Roy felt like he had been punched in the gut. He hunched over, elbows on his knees and sucking in air until the dimness subsided and consciousness opted to remain.  
  
“Roy?” Ed called out to him from seemingly far away.  
  
Tiny automail fingers touched Roy’s forearm, cool and tentative. “I’m fine,” he managed in a tone he did not recognize. He glanced at Ed and was nearly swept away by an almost irresistible urge to hug him and never let him go. Instead, he offered him a weak but sincere smile. “Still here,” he said with more conviction. “More importantly, so are _you_. You’re pretty goddamn lucky to be alive, Ed.”  
  
Ed nodded in agreement. “Miss Pinako said I almost…” The boy fell silent, frowning. “When you lose too much blood.”  
  
Roy wasn’t certain that he wanted to live in a world where children had to know and experience firsthand the meaning of bleeding out. With all of the other wickedness and evil out there, how was something like that even remotely fair?  
  
“They had to do tests and stuff,” Ed went on. “To make sure I didn’t catch the rabies. I had to have a whole lot of stupid shots.”  
  
Amusingly enough, he looked far more put out by that than the actual attack. Roy suspected that needles were right up there with milk on Ed’s list of most hated things.  
  
“After I got better, I got this.” Ed held up his right arm with a mild wince. “I had to learn how to do everything all over again, like I was a baby. But I did it.” He lowered his arm and peered at Roy. “That’s it. That’s how it happened. What do you… what do you think now?”  
  
“I still think your automail is badass.” Roy gave the clipping back to him. “And I also think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”  
  
“I wasn’t trying to be brave,” Ed insisted as he ducked his head to hide his blush. “I just wanted to save Al. I didn’t care what happened to me as long as he was safe.”  
  
Without thinking about the right or wrong of it, Roy brought his arm around Ed’s back and rested a hand on his shoulder. None of the cursing or kicking or pranks, none of the torture and hell this kid had put him through mattered anymore. When he tried to visualize everything Ed had just described, and he realized just _how close_ the boy had come to dying, he wanted to curl into a ball and weep.  
  
After a while, he squeezed Ed’s shoulder before letting him go. “We should get back downstairs,” he said.  
  
“‘Kay.”  
  
Roy carried him back to Trisha’s bedroom so that he could return the article, and then toted him down the stairs. He made Ed comfortable on the couch and cleared away the plates and the books and the candy-less Candy Land. After that, he fetched them each a glass of grape juice and joined him. Their eyes met briefly as Roy gave him one of the glasses, and in Ed’s he saw raw and fierce affection. It wasn’t because of the child’s crush on him, although he was smart enough to guess that it did figure somewhere in the equation. No, this affection was different. Deeper. Permanent.  
  
They watched TV until Trisha and Al came back from visiting the Tringhams half an hour later. Trisha was carrying a covered dish (because Nash was apparently an _amazing_ cook, or so she had practically gushed) and Al had a stuffed SpongeBob courtesy of Fletcher. The little boy ran over to the couch and hopped onto Roy’s lap, just barely missing his groin and giving him an entirely different reason to curl into a ball and weep. After giving him a sound tickling, Roy deposited him beside his brother and went into the kitchen, where Trisha was rearranging items in the fridge to make room for the newest addition.  
  
“Thank you for letting me come over today, Mrs. Elric,” he said.  
  
“You are welcome here any hour of the day, any day of the week,” the woman replied before adding a hilariously undignified, “Shit!” while shoving the dish into a tight space between another dish and countless bottles of juices. With that out of the way, she closed the refrigerator door and turned around. The instant she saw Roy’s face, she knew. “He told you.”  
  
Roy nodded. “Yeah, he told me.”  
  
“Well…” Trisha leaned back against the door, right next to an adorably crude drawing of the house that Al had done. “You’re in it now, kiddo. With both feet. I hope you know that.”  
  
Roy knew, all right. What Ed had shared with him today marked the confirmation of everything he had already known to be true, that the boy was now and would always remain a part of his life, even long after his role as a babysitter came to an end. And he was okay with that. As a matter of fact, he didn’t think that he would have it any other way.  
  
“Do you have time for lunch?” she asked.  
  
Roy checked his watch. Maes wouldn’t be there to pick him up for another hour. “Sure.”  
  
“Get your butt over here, then.”  
  
Chuckling, Roy stepped over to the counter to help her prepare food while the soothing laughter of two very special brothers rang throughout the entire house.  
  
*****  
  
“How’d everything go?” Maes asked after they got home.  
  
Roy followed him into the kitchen, both arms filled with bags of soda and chips. He had decided during the car ride to keep Ed’s story to himself. Not because he wanted to keep secrets from his boyfriend, but out of respect for Ed. What he had divulged was nobody else’s business, not even Maes’.  
  
“Fine,” he replied, setting the bags down on the counter with a grunt. “He’s still pretty sore, which I expected. But he’ll be okay in another day or two, I think.”  
  
“Good.” Maes placed a bag of subs beside the other bags. They were all sick to death of pizza by that point, and since no one had been able to agree on which hamburger joint was the best, subs it was. “If you want me to take you over there tomorrow too…”  
  
“Nah. I think he can manage for one day without seeing my face. But thanks.”  
  
Roy reached out to take him by the hand but paused when he saw an apple pie sitting on the corner of the countertop.  
  
“Did... you make a pie while I was gone?”  
  
“Oh, that.” Maes grinned nervously and rubbed at the back of his neck. “No… um… Gracia made it.”  
  
“Gracia… made you… a pie.”  
  
“She didn’t make it _for_ me,” Maes quickly clarified. “She said she was making pies for some family thing and ended up with one extra.”  
  
Roy didn’t even notice that his jaw was clenched until he had to make a concentrated effort to _un_ clench it before speaking again. “It sounds like she said a lot,” he said coolly. “How long was she here?”  
  
“Like five minutes. That’s it. I told her I had to be somewhere so she gave me the pie and took off.” Maes wrapped his arms around Roy and held him tightly. “Please don’t be mad at me,” he murmured into the teen’s neck. “You know how I feel about free food.”  
  
Roy tried not to laugh and ended up failing miserably. He returned the embrace, closing his eyes and breathing in Maes’ cologne. Honestly, the guy could probably get away with murder if he dialed up the charm just right.  
  
Even so, there was something that Roy needed to say, and he reluctantly extracted himself from Maes’ arms to look him in those gorgeous green eyes.  
  
“Listen Maes, I don’t want to come across like I’m being jealous or possessive or some shit like that, but… I _really_ don’t like the idea of her just popping in whenever she feels like it. I know you set her straight, but that doesn’t mean she stopped liking you.”  
  
“I know,” Maes acknowledged. “If it happens again, I’ll remind her that I only want to be friends with her. And if reminding her doesn’t work… I’ll tell her about us.”  
  
Roy gawked at the other teen. “You would do that? What if she told other people?”  
  
“Then I would deal with it. _We_ would deal with it.” Maes grabbed the front of Roy’s shirt and pulled him close. “I told you I would never lie about us,” he reminded him while trailing his fingers over Roy’s chest. “I meant that.”  
  
“I don’t know if I deserve you,” Roy said, weaving his fingers through Maes’.  
  
“You don’t. You deserve better.”  
  
Maes drew him into a slow and sensual kiss that sent shockwaves of desire through every inch of Roy’s body, right down to his toes. They fell back against the counter, tongues tangling and bodies shifting and grinding, until they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily.  
  
“Now if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about Gracia or her pies anymore,” Maes said, nuzzling his beard against Roy’s cheek. “I want to eat a sub and make dirty jokes about foot-longs. I want to play Street Fighter and kick your ass with Guile. I want to hang out with our crazy friends and have a good time. And later, after they leave…”He burrowed his face in Roy’s neck and clamped down, sucking on a patch of smooth skin. When he was finished teasing the teen, he raised his head and gazed longingly at him, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “… I want _you_.”  
  
That was, undoubtedly, the hottest thing that Roy had ever heard.  
  
“For fuck’s sake, get a room, horndogs,” Riza growled from the kitchen doorway.  
  
The couple separated as she entered the kitchen with Jean and Sheska. Roy’s face felt like it was on fire, among other body parts, and he tried to play it cool. Unfortunately, Riza wasn’t about to let that happen.  
  
“You should probably put some ice on that,” she remarked, glancing downward. “I hear it’s good for all kinds of swelling.”  
  
“Shut up!” Roy turned around and tried to ignore the laughter that was directed at him. “Don’t you guys know how to knock?”  
  
“We did,” Jean informed him. He plucked the cigarette that had been lodged behind his ear and shoved it between his lips. “We figured you were too busy to hear us.”  
  
“Don’t let us stop you,” Sheska piped in as she started rooting through the bag of subs. “You two wanna bang? Go right ahead.”  
  
Maes rolled his eyes and grinned. “As tempting as it is to bend Roy over the counter while the three of you watch, I’ll pass.”  
  
“Maes!” Roy had thought that he couldn’t blush more. He was wrong.  
  
They unwrapped subs, tore open bags of chips, and poured fizzy drinks. The hardcore beverages would come later, after the sun went down. For now, Coke and Mountain Dew would suffice. The five teens spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening doing what they always do: stuffing their faces, playing video games, talking shit to each other, and having a grand time.  
  
Later that night—after they got good and liquored up around Roy’s fire; Sheska took off her bra, barfed, and swore off drinking for the billionth time; and Riza collected her winnings from the boys—Roy and Maes retired to Maes’ bedroom and picked up where they left off earlier in the kitchen. They broke out the perverted goodies that Maes had purchased from the sex store and tried out a number of items for the very first time.  
  
As it turned out, that night was the very first time for _many_ things.  
  
And after that, they curled up together in Maes’ newly made bed. Roy had no intention of returning to his own bedroom that night; Maes’ parents could have walked in on them right then and there and he couldn’t have cared less.  
  
Lying in Maes’ arms, it was all too easy for Roy to believe that his life would always be like this. Much like with Ed, perhaps even more so, he couldn’t begin to imagine an existence without Maes. There was no other person in the world he trusted or loved more, and he was fully secure in the knowledge that the feeling was mutual, and that despite the current need for secrecy, everything was going to work out. They would get past high school and get on with living their lives openly, unchained from the limitations of discretion and fear of reprisal for the simple act of falling in love. They would be free.  
  
He fell asleep with a yawn and a smile, clinging to Maes’ body for warmth and comfort… and completely oblivious to the fact that the half-eaten apple pie on the kitchen counter was, for all intents and purposes, a sign of the crushing heartache still to come, the beginning of the end.  
  
*****  
  
The pain from the automail replacement procedure had diminished greatly by Monday. Aside from the occasional reminder that left Ed cringing and cursing under his breath (when his mother wasn’t around), he was more or less back to normal. Still, Trisha had allowed him to stay home, and hadn’t that been fantastic. He stayed on the couch for most of the day, drawing pictures of weird circles and symbols; he had no idea what they were, the images just popped into his head so he ran with it. He also drew a picture of a new garden he envisioned creating with Russell. Just because their first one had been destroyed didn’t mean they couldn’t try again. Trisha had sat right beside him, knitting a dress for one of Winry’s hundred dolls. It was a hell of a lot nicer than ripping the damn thing’s head off, something that Ed would have done if given the chance. Okay, maybe not. Not if the head couldn’t be popped right back on. He wasn’t _that_ much of a jerk. (And she probably would have hit him with a wrench over it too, complete with Al’s blessing because he was so in love with her and how gross was that.)  
  
They’d had a nice, long talk all the while. Well, not so nice because his father was one of the topics of conversation. But then again, it _was_ nice because Trisha had revealed to Ed that she was filing for divorce, and that made him happy. Happy for himself, happy for Al, and happy for his mom, who deserved to be happy more than anyone. Even better was the news that he was leaving again, heading back to wherever the hell he had been. Or somewhere else. Ed didn’t know or care. They would finally be rid of him again, only this time no one was sad about it. Trisha had delicately suggested that Ed might one day change his mind and seek contact with Hohenheim when he was older, but the boy highly doubted it. A bitter “So long, asshole” had slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it, but instead of reprimanding him, Trisha had merely grinned, ruffled his hair, and said, “Yeah.”  
  
By the time Roy arrived with a squealing Al over his shoulder, Ed was able to move around with minimal profanity. After greeting them both, Trisha kissed Ed goodbye—embarrassing!—and left for work.  
  
“All better?” Roy asked Ed as he tossed Al down on the couch like a sack of potatoes, much to the child’s eardrum-piercing delight.  
  
“Yeah.” Ed gave Al the pictures he made and all squeals came to a sudden halt as the younger Elric stared at them in fascination. Taking advantage of the silence, he added, “Did Maes bring you today?”  
  
Roy’s head tilted. “He did. Is that okay?”  
  
Hell no, it wasn’t okay. Ed was insanely jealous of Maes and would probably always be as long as he and Roy were boyfriends. However… he clearly made Roy happy. And if Roy’s happiness meant that Ed had to suffer his general dislike of that stupid jerkface of a jerk with the copycat cowlick, then fine.  
  
“I was just wondering,” he claimed, swinging Al’s legs off the cushions so he could sit.  
  
“Why don’t we go outside?” Roy suggested. “You’ve been cooped up in this house all day.”  
  
“I wanna go outside too!” Al yelled cheerfully.  
  
Two against one. Damn it. Ed truly never minded staying indoors because his books and toys were there, but conversely, he wanted to be wherever Roy was. And if Roy was being attentive enough to suggest going outside for Ed’s comfort, then Ed would indulge him while pretending not to care (and then swoon and blush about it later that night in the privacy of his own bedroom).  
  
“Yeah, okay,” he said as nonchalantly as he could.  
  
They went out the back door. Ed squinted as daylight hit him square in the face and blinked until his eyes adjusted. He sat down on the grass while Roy and Al engaged in a fierce game of tag that Al was never going to win.  
  
Pinako and Winry came around shortly after. Winry took over for Roy (and Al purposely slowed down because he was too much of a gentleman to chase down and tag the girl of his dreams) while the old woman gave Ed a quick once-over to ensure his arm and leg weren’t giving him any trouble.  
  
“And how are you, young man?” she asked, turning to Roy and peering at him through her thick glasses. “I know this little trooper is going to be just fine, but I was worried about you for a while there, too.”  
  
“I’m good,” Roy replied. “At least I know what to expect next time.”  
  
Although Ed had been watching Al pretend to chase Winry, his ears caught every word of Roy’s conversation with Pinako and his heart skipped a beat upon hearing the teen’s statement. Next time? Next year’s automail replacement was the furthest thing from his mind, but knowing that Roy was expecting to be there with him for it almost made him wish he could go ahead and do it now, agony be damned.  
  
Since Al and Winry were having so much fun, Roy offered to accompany the little girl home in time for dinner, so Pinako jammed her pipe into her mouth and left them to it. Roy sat down next to Ed and stretched out his legs, craning his neck to soak up the sunshine.  
  
“My mom is divorcing him,” Ed announced out of the blue.  
  
Roy didn’t seem shocked by the news. “How do you feel about that?” he asked.  
  
Ed stretched out his legs as well, and was somewhat annoyed that they didn’t come anywhere close to covering the amount of ground that Roy’s did. “I don’t care,” he replied. He looked at his younger sibling, who had given up “chasing” Winry to show her some fascinating thing on the ground. “Al might care, though,” he added thoughtfully.  
  
“He might,” Roy agreed. “If he does, go easy on him. I mean, yeah, your dad’s a raging prick, but that doesn’t mean Al will see him that way. He hasn’t had the same… experiences… as you.”  
  
Ed understood what Roy was getting at. Sure, his father was still an asshole, but at least he had been a slightly lesser asshole to his youngest son. Al had the biggest heart in the world; if he managed to find room in it for Hohenheim no matter how much the bastard didn’t deserve it, then Ed wouldn’t do anything to disrupt that.  
  
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore,” Ed said. His alone time with Roy was too precious and short to waste on discussing Hohenheim more than they already had.  
  
“What do you want to talk about?” Roy asked. “You can ask me anything.”  
  
Ed twirled a blade of grass around an automail digit while he pondered the request. He and Roy had shared so much already but there was one thing he had yet to inquire about:  
  
“What do you want to do when you grow up?” Remembering that Roy was sixteen (and then grinning evilly when he also remembered calling him an old man the first day they met), Ed amended his query. “When you grow up more?”  
  
“I have no idea,” Roy answered, running a hand through his black hair. “College maybe. I used to think about joining the military.”  
  
This fascinated Ed. “Yeah?”  
  
“Mm-hm. I always imagined rising up through the ranks and becoming someone awesome and important.” The teen smirked. “Something like… Colonel Roy Mustang. Or whatever.”  
  
Did he really not see that he was _already_ someone awesome and important? Ed so longed to tell him that, but he didn’t dare. So much for being the bravest person Roy had ever met.  
  
Al and Winry were kneeling down now, their heads bent over to the point of touching to get a better look at whatever Al was showing her. A damn rock or bug, knowing him. Ed planned to get all the details later that night, right before he mercilessly teased him about her. But right now, he had more important issues to address.  
  
“If you go into the military…”  
  
Roy raised a brow. “If I go into the military… what?”  
  
“If you go into the military, then that means you’ll be far away. I don’t…” Ed sighed deeply. “I don’t want you to forget about me.”  
  
He risked a glance in Roy’s direction. The teen was smiling warmly at him, and it almost made him want to cry for reasons he had yet to fully understand at such a young age.  
  
“Edward Elric, there’s no place in this world far away enough for me to forget about you.”  
  
Ed swallowed the lump in his throat. “Good, because I won’t _let_ you.”  
  
“I didn’t think you would,” Roy replied with a hearty laugh.  
  
With that settled, they resumed their observation of Al and Winry. Ed attempted and for the most part succeeded at keeping a straight face while dealing with the barrage of emotions that overwhelmed him. Even though Roy would be around for months, maybe even a year or two down the road, he wouldn’t be their babysitter forever. Time would eventually pass and he would move on to whatever future awaited him. All Ed could hope for was that he might somehow be a part of that future.  
  
And if he had any say in the matter, he would.

* * *

 

    
Ed being Ed. Drawn by SirKrozz.

   
The salvaged tulip (Chapter 19). Drawn by SirKrozz.

   
Sleeping Ed is not sleeping (Chapter 25). Drawn by Dragonimp. 


End file.
